When my System Stopped Asking

A soft blanket;
a warm cup of tea
the call of an eagle flying over the property
the scent of incense burning
light moving as it touches the curtains
a blank page in a notebook
or an empty word document.
butterflies landing on flowers in my garden
raindrops clinging to leaves
candlelight flickering

my body, disarmed
my breath dropping lower into my ribs; jaw soft and wide

Deeply stilled in the presence of beauty.
I feel it in myself, too.
the spirit of something pure and untouchable

Home is not a place I reach
It's the stillness that lays beneath reaching


It is the moment my system stops asking 

                                    . .