He Who Breathes Poem by Patti Masterman

He who breathes has daily the breath of God inside him-
Font of miracles, splendour of aeons.

The perturbations of cosmos are present with him;
Creation starts again at his waking,
Time stops again at his sleep.

The unexpected and unanticipated are encircled
By his circumference, the unknown triggered by his whim.

The majesty of movement, the deference of thought.
Everything without is found within, as above so below.

The magic of matter recognizing itself.

The soul of all, the seeds of grandeur.