There is such quiet grace in each presence anew, 

in stillness. Each morning at the break of dawn 

I shall ease my pacing mind and listen 

to make room for the magic underneath the surface of a day,

for the sheer delight that blooms in each second, spinning 

itself through the fine-dusted substance of this world. 

A wreath of gold woven in an ethereal whisper 

around our busy heads and stiffened necks. 

— Protection — Eternity — Lightness  —

Once we turn to stillness all of these

are ours to hold.