A Gentle Return, A Quiet Joy

As light spills soft upon the morn,

your spirit stirs, untouched, reborn.

The weight of worlds, with gentle grace,

slips by, like winds that kiss your face.

In each breath, the quiet rise—

a river’s flow beneath clear skies,

carrying joy, unseen, unbound,

in tender waves, without a sound.

The earth hums softly, deep and low,

a song you’ve always known to grow.

In silence, stillness softly hums,

your body finds where it becomes—

a songbird poised at the edge of light,

not waiting, yet held in the night,

needing no leave, no whispered word,

just being where you are, unheard.

The weight of day falls, soft as dew,

on petals turning gold, anew.

Your thoughts take flight, like birds that glide,

resting in skies so vast, so wide.

Each breath, a golden thread, softly spun,

weaving through the soul’s pure light,

turning silence into song—

where nothing’s rushed, and all belongs.

Between each breath, a spark of joy,

a flicker, faint, yet full of buoy.

The healer here, not with command,

but as a friend, with gentle hand—

not offering force, but soft release,

inviting you to quiet peace.

With each inhale, a steady drum,

your heart keeps time with earth, becomes

the pulse beneath the world’s own feet,

in rhythms calm, in cadence sweet.

With each exhale, you let go—

like rivers that forever flow,

into the lightness of pure being,

a joy both soft and deeply freeing.

Held in grace, not by the hand,

but by the pause where you still stand—

the healer’s voice, a quiet sound,

a friend whose presence wraps around.

And here, in joy’s soft light, you see

all has been well—just as it’s meant to be.