I love these first few moments of the day when the silence of world becomes our freedom;
And the silvered birches seem oddly at ease with the weighted burden of winter’s stay;
We find ourselves in these quieter spaces, where the truest heart dares the course of discovery.
Where uncertainty begs hesitation’s step, and courage graces those who have faith.
Life is earned, never forgotten; the contented soul bears no repentance.
“When from our better selves we have too long, been parted by the hurrying world,” Wordsworth writes. “How gracious, how benign, is Solitude.”
In peace, my loves…
Namaste