I feel nothing 
and a distant something. 
a low burning, 
like a candle or 
better yet a lit match, 
set to die any second 
but on fire all the same. 
it’s less than before. 
before wasn’t paralyzing like I’ve heard it could be 
but it was distracting. 
it sat in my head, 
like a houseguest who doesn’t leave the guest room. 
I knew of it 
and sometimes checked on it, 
but in the end, 
it might as well not have been living with Me. 
this is less. 
not a houseguest 
or even a fly on the wall. 
this distracts because it isn’t distracting. 
it should be more. 
a phrase that lingers, 
a message that repeats 
until a signal is sent that it has been heard. 
instead it’s a breeze in the air. 
not heavy or cold, 
not warm or variable, 
just air that moves from a to b. 
not any different from the oxygen that’s been filling My lungs 
for the last two decades. 
though every once in awhile, 
when My mind isn’t focused, 
when nothing is passing through, 
My lungs fill with air 
and it’s larger than the breath before it.