Coming to Life

Poem

I am slowly
coming back to life again—
as if rising from the quiet floor
of a deep and dreamless lake,
floating toward the soft light
waiting at the surface.

These pauses—
the ones I take on Mondays,
or on any day my spirit needs
to loosen its grasp on the world—
are not interruptions,
but invitations.

A reminder
that the soul has its own tide,
its own rhythm,
its own gentle return.

As a writer,
an intuitive,
a sensitive creature of the inner realms,
I slip away sometimes—
not to hide,
but to listen.

To remember what it is
to breathe without noise,
to feel without explanation,
to belong to myself
before belonging to anything else.

And in that quiet,
the universe leans closer—
not demanding,
only waiting
for me to look up again.

So here I am,
coming alive once more,
carrying the stillness with me
as I step back
into the world.

© Be Budding

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