Sometimes I sit still
and feel the air on the insides of my arms.
I feel the warmth of the sunlight
that reflects off my skin.
I listen to the breeze
that winds through the trees
and through me as well.
I am the same as them.
In the distance I hear birds
and the trickle of water.
They are the same as me.

Later when I leave this rock
things will speed back up,
My muscles and mind straining to keep up,
wearing myself thin
at the end of everyday.
Life is a game that way.
But sometimes I just sit still.