red dot little duck

Above my mat, above the Shala rugs, heart and palms face the chandelier hanging from the ceiling… Savasana. A slight breeze brushing over me cools the beads of perspiration gathered across my limbs. My breath; slow, subtle. Eyes closed.

I can hear the breathing; the breath of the room surrounds me. Its strength swallows me whole, sucking me inside some vast expanse of space… a shadow filled with the lightness of rhythm. No sight, only sound. As if no one is really there. No people, no other bodies. Only Breath. Breathing.