Inhale/Exhale

I thought I saw something out beyond the barn,

a light perhaps, a reflection off

the window of the house.

Strange little baubles,

blurred like streetlamps in the rain

in a watercolor painting.

Breath, inhale, exhale.

It’s nothing to be afraid of.

But the little girl, holding a basket

of corn beneath a starry sky,

that is something to wonder about.

Is she a figment of my imagination,

a symptom of the hunger I feel,

a sign of the need of the world and its fulfillment,

or simply that of hope and what will 

happen in the days, weeks, months to come.

I fear she is an illusion.

I fear that the people need more than

what she can give.

I hope I am wrong.

Breath, inhale, exhale.

I hope that her nemesis, the spirit 

of hunger for all things living is more

the illusion than the little girl.

Hunger will devour us all one way or another.

Hunger is not necessarily searching for food

for the body, but food for the soul.

The spirit of hunger is insatiable,

Corn will not satiate its cravings,

but power, fed by the energy of souls

will only increase its cravings.

More people, more souls, more power,

more, more, more is not enough.

Breath, inhale, exhale.

It is the only thing that is real.

Breath, inhale, exhale.

Be alive. Just breath.

Just be.

—Paul Causey