Though the cup may seem empty, and you feel the silence bearing down

much like fingers kneading your unyielding skull,

though your chest pressure is more than negative

still breathe,

breath is life, breath is hope,

breathing conjures tomorrow when all might be renewed,

another day, another sorrow,

another round of laughter at the cooler where eyes dance with desire

and lies come easily,

hold on to that thing within

life is sometimes silent like death

be still, just listen, the blue bird is singing

just listen …

copyright: lmh.