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***
We like to play
And so we do
In stillness sway
Aliveness renew
We make a game
Of everything we do
Watching wax & wane
Of each pulse anew
Beginning of the itch
The urge to scratch
Allowing the twitch
We are our own match
Differentiating intent
At half breath cessation
The pauses potent
At inhalation & exhalation
Lips opening to sip
A pause pregnant
Into the tea they dip
The gulp too expectant
We look in the mirror
Beyond outer appearance
A spasmatic bliss tremor
Reveals our innocence
***
__________________
The Self has no attribute
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