NIGHT AIR
This is their hall,
their echoing hall.
Acolyte owls mist and dust the snow flurry
that is an endless decease.
Heat of heart and heat of blood
rises wavering, steams, dissipates.
Cold eyes, lidless, remain.
Smiling, our ancestors by their fires,
looking down to see whatever passes
(the long roads, the short roads
To their welcoming circles).
This is their hall, domed and dark
where the warm soul of breath expires.
—
simonhlilly 
Breathing in
Breathing out
Witnessing
Perception
Dissolve into
Sensation
And release.
One is breathed upon
One is percieved
One dissolves into another one
One remembers and forgets.
And repeats da capo.
Fantastic.
Glad you like.
Beautiflul.
Thanks for saying.