Saturday Morning
I awoke to the sound of rustling leaves
As the wind murmured its sweet nothings
My window was a canvas of silhouetted trees
And the liquid gold only sunlight brings
The air in my room was warm and still
It coated my throat like dense honey
I breathed in deep ‘til my lungs were filled
With a heaviness so heavenly
If ever the globe has slowed to a halt
It was surely in that sweet moment
When my conscience was unburdened by failure and fault
Raging thoughts rendered blissfully silent
Permitted, for once, to lay myself aside
Neatly on my worn pillow and bedsheets
The core of the earth pulsing, I find
In tandem with my languid heartbeats
I am reminded that, however separate I may feel
From this vast, sprawling universe, my dazzling abode
I’m just the world reminding itself that it’s real
Tasting itself, reading its own code
Copyright © Willow Alviva | Year Posted 2024
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