The moment you press play,
Know that you've done enough.
This isn't a place where sleep needs to be made to happen and there's nothing you need to wait for on the other side of this moment.
The lights are low now,
The edges of the room have softened a little and the day has loosened its grip.
Even if your body hasn't quite caught up yet,
Nothing is waiting for you here.
Nothing needs a response,
Nothing is asking you to fix it,
Answer it or hold it together.
You can let this place you arrive without any more effort be as it is.
A place where you don't have to organise yourself first or tie yourself into knots trying to get it right before you're allowed to rest.
I'm here with you and we have time.
If you're awake my love,
Then you're awake and that's not a problem we're trying to solve.
It's just where we are right now.
The day has already had its say.
There's been effort and holding and so many small invisible acts of keeping things moving.
So it makes sense if sleep hasn't come to you easily yet,
We're not arguing with that.
You simply need time to wind it all down slowly.
We don't need to rush any of it away.
For this moment we're calling a ceasefire.
No more asking the body to cooperate.
No more watching the clock with one eye open.
No more checking where the rest is arriving yet and holding negotiations in your mind.
The night already knows how to hold you,
It always has.
Long before this moment,
Long before today and the surface beneath you is already doing its job.
Carrying your weight without question,
Holding steady so you don't have to.
Somewhere in the quiet there's a rhythm,
Not loud,
Not rushed,
In and out.
The kind of breathing that happens when no one is paying attention.
The kind that doesn't need improving or adjusting,
Just a gentle movement that's been there all along.
The house has settled itself now.
Walls listening instead of echoing,
Corners softening,
Rooms no longer asking for your participation.
And even if there are small sounds,
A shift,
A creak,
A distant hum,
They belong to the night,
My love,
Not to you.
Things still exist,
Of course,
But nothing is urgent.
Nothing needs managing,
Nothing needs to be held together tonight.
Outside the world has slowed in its own way,
Not completely still,
Just quieter.
Life continuing without commentary,
Without instruction,
Without needing anything from you.
So we're letting the body stay exactly as it is,
No softening required,
No letting go,
No change demanded.
If the mind wanders,
That's okay.
If thoughts drift in and out like weather,
That's fine too.
They don't need answers tonight.
And if the body stays alert for a moment,
In its own timing,
This is just a lowering of the volume,
A step back from effort,
A pause in that long familiar conversation between thought and tension.
You've carried enough for the day,
Enough decisions,
Enough responsibility,
Enough holding things no one really sees.
Nothing more is needed from you now,
My love.
I'm here with you for a little while,
Not to take you anywhere,
Not to guide you toward anything,
Just to sit with you as the night does what it does best.
Move slowly and hold what doesn't need to be held anymore.
You don't need to listen closely.
You don't need to remember any of this.
The words can drift past the way sounds do when you're already half somewhere else.
Some nights soften quickly.
Others take their time.
Some arrive in pieces,
Quietly,
Without announcement.
All of that belongs.
So if rest comes,
Let it come in its own way.
And if it doesn't yet,
That's okay too.
This moment is already enough.
I'll stay quietly here for a while longer.
And when my voice begins to fade,
Nothing is missing.
The night is still with you.
The rhythm continues.
In.
Out.
