amateur powerlifter on a day off

it looks like
waiting,
might feel like
waiting,
but it is not
waiting.

open the window
and the breeze might
enter, might
not.

open the door
and you get both
entrance
and exit.

this breathing is
independent of you,
it demands
nothing from you,
does not need to
wait.

this breathing is
dependent of you,
it asks of you,
over, over
again;
open
the window,
open
the door.

there is nothing
to wait for.

snow covered mountains soar into a silver sky, the ocean in front of them, also silver. all looks washed of color in the silver morning light.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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