Poem: The Wisdom of Slowing Down
Slow morning light
touches the quiet breath—
nothing rushing now.
The mind loosens its grip
on the need to hurry.
The day begins gently.
Birdsong drifts through the air
without asking to be heard.
Clouds move across the sky
without effort or concern.
In this unclaimed moment
life unfolds at its own pace,
and the heart remembers
that what is real
has never been in a rush.
