Morning Prayers

It has been quite awhile since I posted a poem. Here is a one I wrote recently after my morning meditation time.

Morning prayers sit silent. Hear the breath, feel the eyes close, air on the skin; the stillness of the body.
Prayers move in and out on the stream of the breath. Anything and everything which could ever be spoken,
Every story which molds, enters and exists in a lifetime is birthed and released in one breath … after another and another.
Empty of the sound of ones own voice, prayer rises up and around, perfumed incense in Union with the Divine on the inhale and exhale.
What more can be said.
Oh yes, Oh yes. I pray with my words, my voice, heart. So many prayers spoken in so many ways with so many words, the litany of mantra.
Endless emotions, supplications, intercessions; in the car, late at night/early early morn, on the knees, face to the floor, during a walk,
Out the door, in the in-between of anything and everything. Endless, unceasing, upon the lips…
In silence the invocation of Pure Presence, the Breath of God echoing upon my own, a call and response. In the Union there is nothing else.
No-Thing in the prayer mala but breath… nothing to fear, or to dream, to hold onto or let go.
Only this moment, this breath, the Breath of Union; a sacred merge.
Nothing else to know or be.