Akasha

What is she? The ether, the unknown that snags the breath, the slack between the ribs. The space I lay out on my mat between the ground and the sky, the layer of horizontal earth, a slab of sacred, that ripples and unfurls across bare threads. The length between my tail and crown. She dwindles with the backbends, baring down. Her presence lacking when I lift my sternum and open fully and feel the top vertebrae meet the base of my skull. The channel between my heart and throat, the pulled and prompted space between my toes, the difference in length between my mama's fingers and my own. Akasha, the unknown, unmeasured. My hips speak this desire, they tell me we are settled in this place, let's breathe easy here. No agenda. Do not fill the space. Akasha chooses solitude. Here in the hips invite spaciousness, pubic bone draws away from the spine, building caverns with the rounded points of the illiac crest. The orbs of woman beg expansion. Let us spread! I make the space in the morning, asana helps me widen the breath and lengthen the pause. Akasha; the space between my thoughts, throughout my day, across my hips, around my heart. Unknown, unbridled, infinite.