Meditation (Desert)

You close your eyes and breathe.

You focus on nothing else,

Just the friction in your nose

And the sound of your breath.

You feel yourself drifting,

Shades of light shifting

As your skin begins to warm.

Light travels along your fingertips;

You feel it working its way up,

Gliding on your arms

Resting on your shoulders,

Like hands lightly pressed

To steady in a storm.

It rises to your neck

And drops to your chest

Like every weight

You’ve carried for too long.

From your chest it slides

Wrapping around your stomach

Settling in your lap

Like a hug you’ve never had.

It nuzzles your thighs

Tickling a bit

Then traces your hips,

Calves, feet, and toes.

It breathes on your nose,

Traces your cheeks,

Kissing freckles you never knew

Till all you feel is radiance.

You open your eyes,

Slowly,

Delicately, but deliberately

Taking in the miles and miles of dunes.

Nothing and no one around you.

Nothing and no one to need you.

Nothing and no one to call you.

There is only sand,

And light,

And warmth,

And peace.

The sun is gentle to your skin,

Never more or less

Than just right.

You breathe.

You let go.

You breathe.

The light grows.

You breathe.

And all is well in this moment.