There will be a beginning-time.
An eruption into existence,
A birth into fullness,
nearly to bursting.
The baby is born!
Adam walks in the garden, naked with Eve.
My lips purse and the air just begins to find its way out.
There is the time of the outpouring.
A time to share, a moving outward. Onward. Upward.
The building of something great.
very nearly perfect.
The young man ventures out into the world.
The wanderer in the desert knows that he has finally found home.
I feel the last of the exhale.
The terrible time of dying.
Time stretched, terribly sideways, this infinity-in-a-moment.
The mouth in the ground stretches itself wide and waits.
A heart beat fades: little, less, nothing.
A career that means nothing, this conquering means nothing. Despair amidst the excess.
He is naked and alone up on the cross and he breathes his last.
There is an endless moment, when I push the last of the breath out and I am so empty.
finds itself again.
The man sold everything to buy wisdom.
The stone was rolled away.
It was the Winter. Now, the Spring.
Those lungs fill.
The promise fufilled.
God’s name is in the breath.
And also in the fall and the rise of man.
And birth, death, and life.
God: birth and death and life.