One Breath

I do not give to empty out,
I give to keep the current moving.

My hands are not a source
but rivers.

What I exhale
finds lungs elsewhere.

What I receive
is what I once let go—
returning as light.

I no longer count in sacrifices,
I count in rounds.

The earth knows this rhythm:
a tide that gives, a tide that takes—
never guilty, always true.

My heart is a door
that turns to the measure of truth.

I press nothing,
I force nothing in.

I lay my gifts down
where they can breathe.

And where it doesn’t fit,
I close softly,
so something opens elsewhere.

Giving and receiving—
two wings,
one flight,
one breath.