Filament arms arch upward fingers interlace of course I’m stretching of course it’s early morning summer here upon us arriving curved upward haze behind a building announces the day coming. of course I haven’t got my mind yet haven’t quite found where it’s hiding. this is supposed to be a day, a beautiful life, a wild and precious life, a centered, kept, contained moment held. I’m floating elsewhere away for now, back in five minutes that little hand-drawn sign swinging from a string pastel and ink, dream-like messaging inescapable if not caught and held, perhaps gone to the wind’s carefree moving mind-path: the breeze. surely a life is not a day, a day is not a moment of course it can all boil down to just the one split second, one big break, one forgetting, slip, breath, one long fall toward failure. Enter the room. Set down your old mat, bones, songs, fidgets, fears, expectations, set your old life down and unravel your very life-threads, your five minute signs, strings, etched maps for knowing where you are. Unroll your mind you can’t even find and be somewhere: only here is where you are a corpse, body breathing in place a two-minute savasana floating filament thoughts out the twisting of an untied cord, rivets disentangling, notion-rope come undone working loose our own bodies, lives, days, pulling out the stitches so that we are in fact of course nowhere at all. [ Author:  Belovely, the Bikram-loving yogini shares more of her original poetry on her fabulous blog, Alive in the Fire. ] Filed under: art , guest post , yoga