When Peace Sings

*Personal Photo

The waves, the rhythm of the lapping and crashing … my peace exists in that silence between the two  

Strong arms, with a grasp that is tender.  Takes and gives without asking or regretting. My peace exists in the thrumming of the blood as I battle temptation and surrender to being delicate … even if for a moment.  

The words as they flow from within without a thought of what they mean but feeling their worth as the ink wets the paper.  That is peace for me. 

Being needed — not for tasks or material goods or obligations — but just my mere presence bringing comfort to another … peace sings.  



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