What It Means to Live

Living is not the sum of your footsteps from dawn to dusk,

Nor the humdrum repetition of work, sleep, and quiet nights.

It is the soft hush of morning air,

The promise lingering in the edges of a new day.

Living means carrying the weight of memory

While still reaching for the wonder of tomorrow.

It is allowing sorrow to water the seeds of possibility,

Letting grief carve a deeper space for hope.

Living need not be loud or grand.

It can flourish in solitude,

Where a single heartbeat reminds you

That you are not just surviving......you are here!

If you feel numb, caught in the gray loop of routine,

Remember that life’s palette extends far beyond your current view.

Moments of quiet laughter, a gentle kindness,

The warmth of a stranger’s smile.

These small sparks can ignite a brighter flame.

To be alive is to honor the sacred pulse within your chest,

To greet each sunrise as an invitation

To feel....

To heal....

And to grow.

You are not defined by loss or by habit;

You are the keeper of your own becoming.

So, with each breath, embrace the subtle beauty

Woven into the fabric of your days.

Trust that in the stillness, there is a profound stirring,

The tender reminder that you are here,

And in that presence,

Life forever beckons.