every morning, my heart asks for stillness. my arms beg not to reach. my body says: stay. slow. just a little longer. but my mind has already written the to-do list before i open my eyes. my legs obey. i find myself at the desk before i find myself at all. i know i’m losing something in this daily race: a presence, a pulse, a part of me i only meet in stillness. and every day i wonder: how long can i keep moving without ever arriving in me?
If you’re in the mood for more poetry:
Discussion about this post
No posts