Poem – This is how the world enters you
This is how the world enters you
Not with thunder.
Not with a sermon.
But with the rustle of grass you almost didn’t hear
because you were thinking about your inbox.
With the hush between birdcalls,
the exact shape of silence
in the trees.
This is how the moment asks to be noticed—
not as a lesson but as a friend
who doesn’t need fixing.
You step outside,
not looking for anything.
And there it is: light on the bark,
wind on your cheek,
the old ache in your chest softened by the scent of rain.
You don’t have to name it.
Or hold it.
Or keep it for later.
Just let it in.
Let it fill the wide cathedral of your ribs
and echo down the quiet corridors of your attention.
This is not escape.
This is return.
This is the moment reminding you that you belong
to something gentle,
and real,
and already happening.
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