Where rest is set and peace is sown,
The sunrise and dawn are mine alone.
A covenant forged—just God and me,
My church stands high, stone-built and free.
Upon a mountain, firm and wide,
An orchard blooms on every side.
Each ration blessed by Heaven’s hand,
Planted with care, by love unmanned.
What more creed does one require?
Contentment douses all desire.
The richest soul is he who needs
No more than what the spirit feeds.
I sing my song with head held high,
No shame, no sorrow, no goodbye.
My wine is sweet, and purely mine,
Pressed in stillness, aged in time.
In solitude, I find the way
The questions gone, the answers stay.
I’m priest and penitent in one,
My absolution, self-begun.
So thank You, God, for this great gift:
The sacred silence, the spirit’s lift.
Solitude and I walk blind
Together lost, yet not to be found.

I soak up rays of warmth from the sun
as it covers my limbs like a blanket.
I am calm, content, and curious.
My curiosity is unbridled,
and my creativity is bolstered
by the satisfaction I feel.
I wish to grow and reach new heights.
This freedom comes from the sun,
as my leaves photosynthesize its warmth into energy.
My stem reaches taller, and new leaves unfurl.
I create a new version of myself with every sunny day.

Violence is never the answer,
But the implication of that quote
Is that violence is an answer
Even if it isn't ever optimal.

As someone once deaf,
And because of it once mute,
Such a quiet but thoughtful demeanor
Usually stirs one from their bitter attitude.

The slumber of anger,
Like that of sadness;
The tiredness is a dear friend,
The emptiness of them.

In that absence of contentment
Missing too is common sense.
The confusion of all emotions,
Their transient nature and overlap.

The first thoughts in the morning,
Filled with tension and anxious,
Mirror those like at night;
The nest of pests parasitic.

Anger, like sadness, is too broad.
Am I enraged by indignation?
Am I grieving from someone gone?
They have their places.

But violence is never an answer.
Peace, no matter what,
Is ever hardly secured
Even if it is always optimal.

All the little ponies
Are standing on the hill
Gaze out across the valley
Wild mustang regal and wear
Asks smallest pony to himself
Why magestic am I nere?
No wings to glide along the clouds
Refused legs lean and long?
Nor was I gifted and bestowed
sprouted horn upon my crown

Then jumps nearby a frog to he
and startles neigh a-fright
Upon which he did rear and stomp
Squashing frog among the leaves
And pony never asked again
For perspective gained release.

Just be merry because the sun is shining just for you
Just be merry because the moon is sending love to you
Just be merry because the wind is lending breath to you
Just be merry because the water is quenching you
Just be merry because the fire is sending its warmth to you
Just be merry because the earth is endowing you with a home
Just be merry because the space is just letting you be

Feels grounding.