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In our lives we leave traces
Of ourselves
Our being
Our lives

It might be our clothes
Our smile
Our touch or laugh
Our face
We leave traces

It might be our perfume
Or cologne
The way we walk
Or leave a room
We leave traces of ourselves
Through the people we touch
The people we meet and know
Our family and friends

The stranger we smiled at
The child we helped
We leave traces
There are vapors of us
Always
The Field of Childhood

When the world grows too sharp
and rage rises like smoke in a sealed room,
She goes —
not with her feet, but with memory.

She runs to the field near her childhood home,
where the sky always opened wide enough
for even her smallest fears to disappear.

There were trees in the distance,
a baseball diamond where laughter once lived,
and grass that never judged —
only welcomed.

The children used to play there
Running, tumbling,
loud with joy,
soft with innocence
She now visits like a chapel.
Sacred and private.

When discord  moves  through a room like fire,
She runs —
not in panic,
but in prayer.
Silent.

To that field.
To the whispering trees.
To the safe ache of childhood.

Some places live inside you
not as memories,
but as medicine.
They heal in their own way.
They are always there.
That field is hers

And when she needs to run
She always knows
exactly where to go.
She is hidden and protected.
When I feel lost I will rise up
I will reach out towards the stars
To find my way back

When I can’t find my way
I will rise up and see the light
I will follow it back to my path

When I have no words
I will rise up and let you inspire me
I will let you guide me

When I am full of despair
I will rise up towards the sky
Letting it carry me on to my destiny

When I am full of darkness
I will up towards the sun
Letting it fill me with light
As the sun goes down for the night, clear your mind
As the sun goes down and the heat calms down, look towards the moon

As the sun goes down and the world slows down, slow your heart
Slow your heart and think about the good things you have

As you get ready to rest for the night, let your body relax and carry you to sleep

And as you wake for the next day, smile for a chance at a new start

And treasure each moment and every second as they are a gift
I used to think that people and their feelings were like china plates
Beautiful
Unique
Fragile and delicate
Easily broken

When we are born
Our plates are flawless
No cracks or chips
They are new and perfect

As we go through life
They can get hurt
They get chips
And cracks
And sometimes they break
Or a piece breaks off

Life does that
The ups and downs
The good and the bad
Relationships can do that
Hearts can break
Bodies can get hurt or age
And our plates reflect it

Life is like a china plate
Delicate
Fragile in some ways
Something to be treasured
Morning chimes outside my window
Teasing me with their tune
Tempting me
Enticing me
Gently playing music
Lifting up my spirits

Morning chimes outside my window
Gently waking me up
Offering a pleasant sound to start the day

Morning chimes
There were two stones that had been together
They had never been apart
They sat in the bottom of a river
Peaceful
Sublime

Then all of a sudden one day they were separated by storms and rough waters
They ended up being pushed into different parts of the sea
Settling eventually on to the floor where they each sat alone

After several decades and stormy weather one day they were moved  close to each other once again

Like magnets they were uncontrollably drawn to the other and somehow managed to lock together as if made only for each other
Over time they became one piece
Destiny had arrived in all its glory

It’s magic
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