Shavasana

There’s something about the firmness of the floor

The soothing consolation I feel when I lay down

Gravity pressing my bones upon the ground

Dis-ease settles from my body

Peace quells my turbulent mind

And all I need is time

My racing heart begins to slow

Fascia eventually softens

As I lay still enough for my coffin

This is the rooting nature of corpse pose

The flattening of my lumpy mound

A puddle of flesh made out of every pound

The mind, nothing but a vacuous pocket

Like space without a sound

Shavasana, I am unwound