If I should fall, do not despair, Do not let sorrow bind your heart. Remember me in gentle fields, In skies that hold the morning’s start.
The earth will cradle what remains, Its soil will fold me in its care. And every blossom, every breeze, Will hold the breath I once left there.
Think not of loss, but of the light, The life that beat within my chest. For love endures beyond the grave, And memory guards what was best.
If you should seek me when I’m gone, The grave is a marker, but not my end. You’ll find me in the air you breathe— For I was love, and love will carry you home.
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They called it lazy—this slowing down, this soft rebellion against the crown of hustle, noise, and endless chase, the world’s wild race for faster pace.
We rush, we reach, we chase, we grind, forgetting what we’ll leave behind. The laughter lost, the gentle play— we trade them for another day.
But sometimes stillness wears disguise— a body’s truth, a mind grown wise. For what you name as wasted time are moments when the heart realigns.
You’re not unworthy, weak, or wrong— you’ve just been running far too long. The soul will whisper when it’s sore: “Do less. Breathe deep. Become once more.”
Perhaps your “lazy” is the ache of too much done, too much to take— a busy mind, an endless call, until your spirit can’t take it all.
So sip the coffee, let it steam, let thoughts drift slow, let daylight gleam. In idle hours, the heart relearns the quiet path the world unlearns.
It’s not a flaw, but wisdom’s plea: to pause, to breathe, to simply be. For boredom births what rushes miss— the quiet doorway back to bliss.
For rest is not a giving in— it’s where the deeper truths begin. Ideas bloom when pressure fades, and purpose mends in gentle shades.
No guilt for naps, no shame for pause— the world won’t change or end because you stopped to feel, to taste, to see— this gentle act of sanity.
You are not lazy, only still, unplugged from life’s relentless will. In slowing down, new sparks appear— from empty space, your truth grows clear.
For peace begins where striving ends, where silence gathers, thought transcends. To simplify is not to fall— it’s finding what matters most of all.
So pour the coffee, watch it steam, let idle time restore your dream. For in this hush, the heart can say: “I wasn’t lazy—just on my way.”
But when we take our final breath, we won’t wish we had done more work. We’ll wish our days had slowed in grace— for love, for peace, for soft embrace.
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Body of Brilliance 