Mindfulness Practice

It starts with a whisper, soft and low, A flicker of doubt, a seed to sow. A thought takes root, it twists, it climbs, Echoing fears, replayed countless times. Around and around, the circle spins, A battle within where no one wins. The mind’s a storm, the heart’s a drum, A cacophony rising, where silence won’t come. Each step forward feels like retreat, The ground unstable beneath your feet. What ifs and maybes form a chain, Binding the soul with invisible pain. The spiral tightens, it pulls, it draws, Gripping you fast in its ruthless claws. You reach for light, for air, for peace, Yet the current drags, it does not cease. But within the storm lies a quiet plea, A whisper of strength, “Come back to me.” The breath, a balm, the anchor’s hold, A moment of stillness, courageous and bold. With each exhale, the spiral unwinds, The space between thoughts gently defined. The storm may return, as storms often do, But each time, you’ll know—you can break through.

 If you knew tomorrow wouldn’t come, Would you notice the sky’s soft hum? Would you feel the grass beneath your feet, Or taste the air, bittersweet? If you knew the dawn might never rise, Would you see the world with different eyes? Would the ordinary become divine, Each moment sacred, each breath a sign? The touch of wind, the scent of rain, The way sunlight brushes against the plain— All would shimmer, rare and bright, In the fleeting glow of borrowed light. So live as though the end is near, Let wonder drown out every fear. For what we hold, what slips away, Is precious now, today, today.