In the madness, we are taken—
by the thrill, the chase, the night,
By sex and talk and fleeting glories,
lost in shadows, bathed in light.
Our bodies dance, our minds unravel,
in rooms that echo with delight,
Yet somewhere deep, beneath the surface,
a silent scream, a quiet fight.
Then comes the dawn of aching stillness,
the early days when hope feels far,
We’re tired, drained, barely breathing—
wondering who we really are.
But in the hush, a seed is waiting,
a whisper in the noise of mind:
“Come back to now, return to presence,
there’s something here for you to find.”
A breath, a pause, a small beginning—
the practice of the here and now,
To sit, to feel, to simply notice,
to learn the when, the where, the how.
Each moment held becomes a healing,
a soft unravelling of pain,
The chaos fades, the stillness blossoms,
like gentle sunlight after rain.
So close your eyes, and start the journey—
this gift of peace is yours to take.
You’ve earned the right to just be breathing.
You’ve earned the dawn that starts your wake.
