A Space

by Morning Star

In the quiet of my mind,
I create a space—
a garden not of earth,
but of breath and spirit,
where beauty moves like water,
and light wears the scent of flowers.

Here, the daisies dance to heart-song,
and buttercups—tiny suns—
spin around daffodil drums,
their laughter soft as pollen in the wind.

Drops of love,
like tears of spring,
fall from unseen hands,
glistening as they bless the moss.
Each one a promise:
you are held,
you are seen.

April rains wash the veil,
and the sky opens—
angels float by in robes of mist,
their wings as light as memory.
They do not speak,
they simply glow.
Their silence is a knowing.

And I float.
There is no weight here.
Only the hush
of breath and sky.

Even when my body aches,
my bones forget,
or the world grows too loud—
I return to this place.

I remember:
my heart holds peace.
My mind, a quiet sun.
My soul, untouched by storm.

I am the light that settles winds.
I am the calm beneath the noise.
I am whole,
even when forgotten.

Nothing can steal
what is made of love.

For I am light—
and light
cannot
be
undone.