Sacred texts rest unopened,
patient and without ceremony,
on my side table.
I can feel their timeless depth
quietly beckoning.
Their wisdom calls me
to those ancient pages,
where words, sharp as morning light,
pierce my open heart.
The writers’ living breath rests
in every letter,
between each word—
a silence that opens.
My eyes move across the page.
My lips form the sounds
that have traveled through time.
The truths rise, unfettered,
and join the ground of my being.
There I find
that I am one
with this wisdom,
these words,
this stillness.
I am replenished.
The day can now begin.
