The Pleasure of Breath

 

What is more pleasing than taking a breath,

Even the last one as we slid to our rest

 

The in and the out and the softness we feel

I think that each breath gives a soothing appeal

  

We honor the sky and wind through the trees

The beauty of clouds is a breath, yes indeed

 

I’m sure it’s the earth just taking a sigh

Just think of that when the wind whistles by

 

And when the whiff of pot roast spells hunger

Where would we be without breath I ponder? 

 

So, take a deep breath you ladies and gents

And consider just all that your breath represents.

The Torment of the Soul

 

                                  Francisco Goya. 1746-1828

 

Creatures of the depth of time shred my slumber with their claws

Spewing boiling tar as I lay stricken by grind of their fearsome jaws.

 

Crackling tongues spew their venom, oh the putrid smell!

Oh, the wicked things that curl like all the snakes of hell!

 

They sing of all the multitudes who felt my cruel bent,

Coming back to torment me with devils they have sent.

 

Sweat turning into boiling oil and trickles down my back

Flashing scenes that shame me by all the good I lacked.

 

Riders on their flaming steeds, with hoof of red hot steel

Oh yes, the very worst of me I know will never heal

 

Far too late to sooth the past, my wickedness abounds

Devoid of hope, the rudder lost, my ship has run aground.