I was thinking this morning about Theodore Roethke’s poem, The Waking. In those first few moments, the world seemed perfectly at rest – the sound of the birds affecting  their  greeting  in  near perfect unison as the light of day broke boldly through. And I, and you – the benefactors of it’s grace.

Before our first full breath, we are bound not by fault, but rather indecision – grasping at those last remaining threads of faith, hope and endless thirst. And dipping our wings in the final castings of night…we rise. We rise as we’ve done so many times before.

“This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.”

With flawless courage, we find our pace – the foundation of one becoming the source of many.

In peace, my sweetest of friends…don’t waste this precise, fleeting moment. Go..do…create…

Namaste ❣