Hello,
Dear one,
Welcome,
You've arrived at the edge of the day,
You've done enough now,
More than enough,
This is the place where we don't have to try,
Where you can let the world slip off your shoulders like a shawl you no longer need to carry,
Here you don't have to solve or strive or shape,
There is nothing to become,
Only soft ground to rest upon and gentle words to drift beside you,
So let your breath fall like autumn leaves,
Allow your bones to melt just a little,
Enough to let the stillness find you,
This is the story's beginning,
And you don't have to listen hard,
Let the words wash over you,
Like waves over a smooth shore,
Like wind through tall grass,
Like a lullaby spoken from the stars,
You are safe,
You are so safe,
You are allowed to rest now,
Let us begin,
There's a path that leads nowhere in particular,
And tonight,
You find yourself walking it,
It's not paved,
It's not underfoot,
A little overgrown,
A trail made by aimless feet and forgotten afternoons,
The moon she hangs above you like a silver cup,
Just waiting to be filled,
With your exhale,
And the stars,
They are the quiet witnesses to your unravelling,
You walk slowly,
Not because you're tired,
But because there is no need to hurry,
Here in this space,
Slowness is sacred,
Every step is a soft yes,
Each breath is a gentle impetation,
You pass an old gate,
Half open,
Hinges covered in moss,
It leads to nothing but more meadow,
You step through because something about it feels like permission,
Something about it feels like letting go,
Walking through this meadow,
There flowers brushing your calves,
Not bold,
Showy blooms,
But the humble kind,
Evening primrose,
Night-scented stock,
White yarrow with petals like moonlight,
These are the kind of flowers that bloom when no one is looking,
You pause to run your hand through the tall grass,
It leans in towards you like it's known you forever,
And just up ahead,
There is a tree,
Wide and steady and listening,
You walk up towards it,
Gently turning around,
And sitting down with your back supported against the trunk,
You feel the earth cool and whole beneath you,
You close your eyes now,
And you imagine the roots beneath you,
Deep,
Knotted and ancient,
Threading through the soil like quiet promises,
They don't ask for anything,
They only hold you,
You feel the tree breathe with you,
Inhale,
Exhale,
No pressure,
No pace,
Just the gentle rhythm of rest,
You are not being watched,
You are not being asked to perform,
You are not behind on anything,
Right now,
You are a creature in a quiet field beneath a soft sky,
Held by something older and wiser than time,
And so,
You rest,
You rest in the knowing that everything can wait,
You rest in the hum beneath the silence,
You rest in the company of the unseen,
The way in is always slow,
Always sacred,
And you are already here,
You are already here,
You are already here,
