The air breathes beneath me.

Deep breaths now.

Slow and steady.

Its crisp fingers coursing over my skin.

Igniting it with flames only it can see.

And I am breathing too.

The gentle in and out, gasps to quiet to hear.

The pressure is building, and I can see drumbeats beneath my lids.

The ghostly pounding of my heart.

The whistling of the air.

The aching silence as the vibrations die and wither in front of me.

And the wind is drumming.

Hammering itself against me, beating the breath from my lungs.

Such steady, slow battering.

And the air breathes beneath me.

Too far to reach now.

Too far to hear.

Lost in the winds, the air breathes beneath me.

But I have forgotten how to breathe with it.