What shall I do with this body they gave me, so much my own, so intimate with me? For being alive, for the joy of calm breath, tell me, who should I bless? I am the flower, and the gardener as well, and am not solitary, in earth?s cell. My living warmth, exhaled, you can see, on the clear glass of eternity. A pattern set down, until now, unknown. Breath evaporates without trace, but form no one can deface.