Tag: poem

  • Where The Quiet Lives

    Where The Quiet Lives

    In a world that spins too fast,
    where headlines scream and time slips past,
    there is a sacred kind of grace
    the stillness found in your own space.

    Not silence, but a deeper tone,
    the voice that hums when you’re alone,
    when morning light paints soft your skin,
    and all the noise is drawn within.

    Find it in the steam of tea,
    in dogs that dream beside your knee,
    in songs that stir your soul to tears,
    in laughter echoing through years.

    Hold tightly to your fragments, bright
    the scent of rain, the stars at night,
    the way your body sways to sound,
    the joy in simply being found.

    You are not made to chase the storm,
    to burn until you lose your form.
    You are the ember, not the flame,
    the garden that will bloom again.

    So celebrate your peace, your pace,
    the smile that warms your weary face.
    For in this wild and fleeting place,
    your joy is not a shame, but grace.

    Let the world roar. Let shadows creep.
    You’ve earned the right to laugh, to sleep,
    to dance, to dream, to softly be
    a universe at last set free.

    The poem explores the vital importance of inner peace and joyful self-connection in a world that is often loud, demanding, and overwhelming. It gently urges the reader to seek refuge in the ordinary moments that bring happiness and to view those moments not as indulgent escapes, but as necessary, powerful acts of self-preservation and authenticity.


    Stanza-by-Stanza Analysis

    Stanza 1

    In a world that spins too fast,
    where headlines scream and time slips past,
    there is a sacred kind of grace
    the stillness found in your own space.

    This opening sets the tone: the world is chaotic and relentless. Yet within that chaos, the poem suggests there exists a “sacred grace”, a kind of salvation found not externally, but internally, in stillness and solitude. It hints at mindfulness and the importance of carving out mental or emotional sanctuary.


    Stanza 2

    Not silence, but a deeper tone,
    the voice that hums when you’re alone,
    when morning light paints soft your skin,
    and all the noise is drawn within.

    Here, peace is redefined, not as mere absence of noise, but as a resonance, a hum that lives within. The stanza paints serenity as something that’s both gentle and powerful. The imagery of morning light is symbolic of renewal and clarity.


    Stanza 3

    Find it in the steam of tea,
    in dogs that dream beside your knee,
    in songs that stir your soul to tears,
    in laughter echoing through years.

    This stanza brings the abstract into the tangible. It names the small joys of everyday life, simple, sensory, and deeply personal. It asserts that peace can be found in these grounding moments of comfort and emotional connection.


    Stanza 4

    Hold tightly to your fragments, bright
    the scent of rain, the stars at night,
    the way your body sways to sound,
    the joy in simply being found.

    This continues the celebration of small joys and encourages the reader to claim and protect their happiness. “Fragments” acknowledges that these joys may seem small or scattered, but they’re bright, meaningful, and worth holding onto. The stanza also affirms the healing power of being seen or accepted.


    Stanza 5

    You are not made to chase the storm,
    to burn until you lose your form.
    You are the ember, not the flame,
    the garden that will bloom again.

    This stanza is a powerful reminder of our natural rhythms and limits. It challenges the cultural glorification of burnout and relentless striving (“chase the storm,” “burn until you lose your form”) and instead suggests a more sustainable, nurturing metaphor: the ember, which endures; the garden, which regenerates.


    Stanza 6

    So celebrate your peace, your pace,
    the smile that warms your weary face.
    For in this wild and fleeting place,
    your joy is not a shame, but grace.

    The reader is now encouraged to honor their own pace and find dignity in happiness. The poem pushes back against guilt or shame for choosing joy, particularly in a chaotic world, and reframes it as an act of grace and strength.


    Stanza 7

    Let the world roar. Let shadows creep.
    You’ve earned the right to laugh, to sleep,
    to dance, to dream, to softly be
    a universe at last set free.

    The closing stanza is a declaration of freedom. It concedes that the world will remain tumultuous (“Let the world roar”), but the reader’s response can be radically different: rest, play, existence without pressure. The phrase “a universe at last set free” ties it all together, suggesting that when we find our inner peace, we unlock our truest self.


    Final Reflection

    This poem is a compassionate invitation to slow down, cherish joy, and reclaim personal peace as a form of resistance and renewal. It validates the reader’s need for space, ease, and emotional richness in a demanding world, and makes clear that choosing happiness is not weakness or avoidance, but a sacred and powerful act of being.

  • With Your Own Eyes

    With Your Own Eyes

    There comes a time, quiet, slow…
    when the noise of the world no longer stirs you,
    when the chase loses its thrill,
    and you begin to wonder
    what it really means
    to be alive.

    Not to exist.
    Not to survive.
    But to live.
    Fully.
    Fiercely.
    With wonder burning behind your eyes.

    Because peace…
    real peace
    isn’t handed down like a gift.
    It’s carved,
    soul-first,
    from chaos.
    From heartbreak and stillness,
    from standing in the middle of life’s storm
    and choosing to plant your feet anyway.

    You will not find it in the noise,
    nor in the glitter of what others call success.
    Peace is not a destination
    it is a reclamation.
    It is the moment you stop asking the world
    who you should be
    and start remembering
    who you already are.

    To see the beauty of this world
    is to choose to see it
    with your own eyes.
    Not through the lens of fear,
    not from behind the filters of doubt,
    but raw and awake.
    The sunrise doesn’t care if you’re ready.
    It rises anyway, bold, magnificent.
    So must you.

    Go climb the mountain.
    Not to conquer it,
    but to let it whisper its ancient truths into your bones.
    Let the ocean remind you
    that surrender can still be strength.
    Breathe in the scent of rain on warm earth.
    Let stars make you feel small
    so you remember how vast your soul can be.

    You were not born to rush,
    to break,
    to bury your light beneath routine.
    You were born to witness.
    To love.
    To feel.
    To heal.
    To stand still long enough
    that the world can speak to you again.

    And when it does
    when your heart is quiet enough to hear it
    you will know:
    peace was never far.
    It lived within you,
    waiting for the moment
    you opened your eyes
    and chose to truly see.