Highs,
Lows,
A seedless place still grows.
A weed here,
A rare flower there.

Why does one perspective
drown inside the collective?
New days come,
new days go.

Half full;
Or,
empty, is the glass?
The mind forgets its latest weight,
stacked burdens blur, then dissipate.

Make room to breathe.
Let the invisible fall away.
Acceptance seeps in,
quiet as daybreak.

You’re the prettiest mess I’ve ever seen.
Go on –
pick up the pen,
the hammer,
the brush,
the keys.

Take what you can control.
The best of you –
the world is ready to see.