Madness, really

It was madness, really, believing any of it was mine.
We come into this world naked, owning only our breath.
If we are lucky, there's a loving pair of arms, waiting
To hold us, and a soft breast to nuzzle.
If we're unlucky, - there's not. The fortunate
Infant, held and suckled, believes the arms and breast
Are his. Faces a hard transition to toddlerhood and
Learning the truth, that they're not. So, now,
This adult transition. Grasping the fullness of this truth:
That nothing given to us is ours for keeps. In the blink
Of an eye, it can be gone. Another blink -
Something new appears, unimagined. Between the blinks,
A hollow space. If we are wise, we sit still in the space,
Sit and watch our breath. Sit quietly, and breathe.
This hollow space. This hallowed space. Breathe in. Breathe out.
The breath we entered with.