That Spot (1183)
The world is pretty big. It’s an amazing place. Mostly I enjoy it. Marvel at it really. So much to see. To feel. But it can get overwhelming. And then I take a moment. A moment to focus on the spot. Where? It changes. All the time. It is where I need it to be. I look at that single flower - so red, so beautiful, even after the rain, or maybe especially. A rock. So strong. So steady. Yet, it can be moved, shaped even, by just a drop of wa- ter. I look at a blade of grass. Really look at it. It doesn’t seem to be worrying. It doesn’t seem to disappear, even in this field of green. It’s here. All here. For me? For them? I don’t know. But I’m happy they’re here. I’m happy I’m here. I just breathe. And watch. And I think. What if I’m that spot, you know, for someone. And I still myself. I am the flower. I am the rock. I am the blade. And it’s then I know. Everything is going to be ok. Amazing even. And I marvel in it again.