04.12.08
|| Caesura ||
“What happens if you don’t breathe?” asked the professor in the piano performing class.
“You tense up?” responded a student.
“You get nervous?” supplied another.
“You forget the notes?” one added.
“You die,” the teacher said matter-of-factly.
This is a reminder that has aided me on and off the piano.
When I feel like a defeated Atlas under the weight of the world, I Breathe.
When I and my opinions are threatened to extinction like an encyclopaedia in the age of computers, I breathe.
When my serene ripples are disturbed by a wading stranger, I breathe.
When I am the riddle too intricate to decipher, I Breathe.
When I am the riddle nobody bothers to guess,
I Breathe.
When a thought evolves into a tenacious headache, I Breathe.
Breathe, Meewa.
It’s a gift from God.
Breathe.
It’s a sign of life.
