Morning came. So did we. The fire’s low, the ground is cool, Ash still warm beneath the gray, Nothing asking to be proven, Nothing needing us to stay. No drum to gather everyone, No reason left to sing— Just breath doing what it does Like it’s always been. I hear the world before it speaks, In birds that test the light, In hands that stretch without a plan To see if they’re alright. Not every day’s a threshold, Not every step’s profound, Some meaning lives in noticing We’re still around. Still breathing isn’t nothing, It’s more than we pretend, It means the story’s moving Without a need to end. No promise made, no vow declared, No fire to defend— If breath keeps showing up like this, We’re doing it again. The future doesn’t knock today, It waits its turn outside, The body keeps the simplest truth: We’re here. We’re alive. I don’t need a better answer, Or a reason that sounds wise, Just this moment opening Behind my eyes. What if presence is enough? What if care is staying near? What if life keeps asking softly: “Are you here?” Still breathing, still becoming, Still… No finish line in sight, In sight… We don’t need to start again today— We just keep it light. Coffee? Yeah.
