It's an almost poem

With breath control there is no idea, emotion, or object you cannot dissolve into the rest. It brings the white blankness where there is peace.

A bush sprouts tiny overnight. Soon comes its prime, its beautiful days -- days, days, days fragrant with musk. The worms have done their job.

A man walks his smiling, sharp-toothed dog, excitement on a leash, excrement on a leash, the cause and effect of sniffing.

One with nature, the homeless still aren't heard.