Creative Writing

Under Development


You sit down, and for a moment none of it matters. You rest because you are tired. You didn’t even know how tired you were until you got here. This moment. This stillness. It’s been waiting for you the whole time. All the roads you walked down didn’t erase the place you were going. All the things you thought you should be – they didn’t change who you really are. Breath. The air is clean here. There isn’t any dead noise. No fumes or exhaust. Birds and bugs and wind in the trees. The earth is swaying and the flowers are dancing. It is bright, and cool, and still. You don’t have to do anything. You notice that life still goes on without all the doing. The body relaxes. Breath comes and goes. Thoughts rise and fall. You notice your body, your thoughts, your breathing. You breathe the same way the flowers sway and the birds sing. The same breath in your body is in their body. The same light in your eyes is in their eyes. It is all together. Flesh and bone and breath and mind are not so different from bird and tree and light and sky. You cannot look without something to see. You cannot speak without someone to hear. You have never, ever, been alone – you never will be.