The Younger Me
We are the ocean and the drop of rain,
The mountain’s shadow and the sunlit plain.
Divided by the stories that we tell,
Yet bound by every breath and rhythmic swell.
One breath of stardust, spun in a different guise,
Looking outward through a million eyes.
The ancient rivers and the smallest stone,
Are the seeds of every garden we have known.
Beneath the varied shapes of joy and grief,
The fading winter and the blooming leaf,
There is a single, undivided whole,
A quiet rhythm beating in the soul.
For when we drop the boundaries of the mind,
We find the endless grace that leaves no one behind.
In every stranger, a familiar face,
Together held in time’s embracing space.
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