The wind, I think,
is peace.
The breath of the earth.
The song of the trees.
And we will bathe in her softness,
today,
and every day.
The wind, I think,
rolls all days into one.
May she catch us
and show us
the truth in her song.

The wind, I think,
is peace.
The breath of the earth.
The song of the trees.
And we will bathe in her softness,
today,
and every day.
The wind, I think,
rolls all days into one.
May she catch us
and show us
the truth in her song.
How beautiful to see your tears
and know your soul
has been kissed
by music.
On this tired night,
I know I have been blessed.
And so it is
I send a seed of this sweet day
into the arms of the sorrowful.
And I say to them:
take this day and make it yours,
then you will know the sunrise
every minute.
Such a beauty has been this day.
Rest is now.
Rest is now.
From the depths of the ache came a beautiful epiphany.
A knowing that the day could be different, and would be different, if only I’d offer myself a brighter choice; something beautiful to fill my cup to just enough.
I stood in front of the bed, exhausted from lack of sleep.
How can you love yourself in this moment? said the whisper.
The answer: make the bed. Admire its softness.
Again, I stood in front of the bed, exhausted from lack of sleep.
How can you love yourself in this moment? said the whisper, once more.
A glass of warm lemon water. A candle on the ledge of the shower.
It was a normal weekday morning. A weekday morning that could have taken my whole day down had I not listened to the quiet voice of my heart.
I sat on the couch, still exhausted from lack of sleep.
Knowing I had lived beautifully.
Knowing that had been the difference.
My
soul
knows
this
song.
Peace.
It’s soft and it’s cool.
It’s free and it’s flowing.
And quiet. (Good heavens it’s quiet. I close my eyes for that one. Truly. I close my eyes.)
Peace.
It lives in the candle beside me; within this flame, still and perfect.
I drink tea alone—peace lives there.
And the wind, swaying green beyond the window: it stops me as I wander.
It brings me home.
Peace is the language that brings me home.
Peace.
It is such a beautiful thing.
And it’s funny. How long it has taken me to see its worth.
That I’ve been looking for it. That, always, it’s been mine.
If only I’d known that I needed it.
I needed it.
Peace. I need it, still.
I have spent so much time
searching for the next step,
and yet
the next step
has always been taken.
With no need to search.
You may name it what you will.
But the ocean will always smell like
what is beneath the name.
It will always look like
what is beneath the name.
And it will always feel like my very own soul,
(the underside of my name.)
You may name us both what you will.
But the ocean will always be beyond it all.
And so will the deep of me.
Good morning, sun.
And river.
Flowers and trees.
Happy day to you, wind,
and the bird song you sweep over mountains.
(Good morning, birds, and mountains, too.)
I will let you be, this day of life.
I will let you all be as you will,
and I will call you
lovely.
The heavens sing like golden strings around my soul.
Here I am, sweet song.
Take this heart with your melody, dear.
It is yours to open,
it is yours to sing to life
beyond the ordinary day.
Take it.
Take it again.
It is yours,
dear
sweet
music.