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.