pause the story

Pause the story

Trains of thought began to slow down
and then finally came to a halt
in the stillness

As the passengers got off
gusts of wind blew their identities away,
leaving them in the space between thoughts

With nowhere to go
and nothing to do
except be,
they rested in the moment



on a cool winter’s eve,
letting herself be known
to those nearby,

who slowed and paused
and stayed a while,
breathing in


thank you for doing nothing

Thank you for doing nothing

In a place where people generally did
as little as possible,
peace and harmony reigned

Thank you for doing nothing,
read a sign near the gate to the village

A bit of music was made
now and then,
and paintings sometimes appeared upon walls,
but for the most part people did nothing
except go on walks and along the way
gather food they wanted eat later on
or sit on a porch and watch butterflies
while crow pheasants sang

Sometimes a blanket would be woven
or a roof mended,
and wood was occasionally split
for an evening fire

A bit of cooking and gardening
also took place,
and nothing felt as though it were work

Everyone lived simply
without greatly disturbing
nature and all the other beings

Dwellings were simple, elegant and low to the ground,
and the village existed in another time:

a time to be quiet and kind,
a time to pause the story,
a time to be still
and aware