Let your thoughts rest, A quiet space waiting. You are here now, Eager for nothing but breath.
The edges of the room, Where light spills out through hanks and forgotten curtains hang across the back seat.
And there, folded flat in soft gray, resting beside the edge— just a coat over it.
It has no purpose tonight. Only this comfort, this gentle weight, holding the quiet close.
You are listening now, To sounds that aren't meant to be heard, Like a whisper against glass— a low murmur of forgotten traffic.
The air is cool and fresh, From where you haven’t moved for days. It tastes like dust motes suspended in late afternoon light.
Let your shoulders drop down slowly, Accepting the softness of this place. Imagine nothing moving, really—not people shouting, not wheels turning fast enough to make noise.
Only stillness here. Only restful air. A sense that everything is okay now.
You lean back into it, letting gravity pull you down. The chair seems so heavy when there's nothing else to lift from. It holds the curve of your gaze— a steady peace around your eyes.
Think about what’s left behind at this moment, What secrets were kept and forgotten by daybreak. And now that memory is just a whisper in the breeze.
Let your thoughts drift toward sleep too, if you choose to do so. The rhythm slows down here, gentle and deep— a slow exhale from both body and mind.
Just breathe into the coolness of it all, Into the quiet dark waiting for dawn’s return light.