What feels the breath breathing

When the day

long suffered

closes, locks turned,

knob checked to be sure

for muscle memory

when whatever wakes me

near 3 am,

double check to be certain,

I am alone here.

All is quiet

save my mind,

how I somehow fill and then drain

of color, of sound and imagery,

story, just as the breath fills

and empty empty empties.

Only to fill again.

Same, the thinking will return.

Convinced, the problems will

still be there to fill up on,

now’s the time for draining,

empty,

still. I could be nothing

for a moment

then feel anything at all.

There is always a return,

until the end.

But we aren’t there yet.