Stillness,
as water is without ripples.
The sun shines,
the birds sing,
and yet somehow everything remains still.
Thoughts drift along
as leaves do in the breeze.
They exist in a plane
that is only accessible
when everything remains still.
It feels every room,
painting it all in a calm hue.
Oneself is found
in realms unseen before, that only unlock
when everything remains still.
The flowers are in bloom,
the leaves on the trees paint the sky.
The smell of nature fills the air,
something that is only appreciated
when everything remains still.
The hush inside the chaos,
somehow the eye of the storm
is somehow better
than the bustle of the world.
As long as everything remains still.
Suddenly the world is brighter,
and everything makes more sense.
With room to think and reflect,
appreciation for life blooms but only
when everything remains still.
