Here, at this warm place
The place that evokes feelings of autumn, of safe
A place of worship and prayer, but not to God
Not to Buddha or Vishnu, but to something seemingly higher

As the silence falls, and the buzz and murmur of the body that is us
quiets,
Eyes are cast down, thinking, but not with words
Rather, with images and sounds, of memories and ideas, of
spirits

The breaths of this dense and balmy body become
heavier, are drawn out with more intensity and thought
Heavier, not in a sense of weight but
purpose. They are held down by the ringing melodies that fill this home
Their rhythm slows and is evident
The breaths of humans that are not meant for the necessity of oxygen
These quiet gasps are meant to communicate and
display our faith to this religion that consumes us
That is us
That will forever be us
And is so much the definition of us that it makes us realize that we
are not made of flesh, but
Words
Sentences
Music
and
Air