Yoga part 12
Passing into a blur before my eyes today,
Yoga's call to me is weak, without power.
I am wandering into strength through iron,
Allowing the focus of my practice to dull.
Where is that yogi of several months ago;
Doesn't iron and my practice mix?
Or does the pull of the external draw my attention
From the spirit, mind, and breath?
How can I allow the progress to die on the vine?
Not quite ripe, but the fruit is juicy none the less.
My determination to practice just isn't there.
My mind draws me neigh my mat.
I can hear the feint cry of the ancients.
Find that stillness once again.
Revival of my practice is at stake.
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