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A Day
It moves forward yet sits still.
It is spent with focus, or wasted with too great a desire to be another.
Boredom within is not boredom, if taken fully as a gift, as space-forming time.
This is a day. You choose.
It may seem as if waiting; for invested creatures it is patience.
Patience is a gracious sloth in form invisible.
The movement of the sloth, do emulate.
Each movement of muscle speaks of a decision,
of a mindset determined.
Deliberate.
Painstakingly, slow moves respect time.
Slow moves grasp underground corridors.
Slow movements feel the pulse running through these passageways.
Slowness feels the blood to heart moving in the chest, and to the destinations needing oxygen.
Precious, not entitled, are true results.
He thrives, the sloth.
He carries the visions of his today.
Only of today, this day,
though to the flighty seen as boredom, this is the true sense of living.
He has taken many breaths of which we should breathe.
He sees more than we.
He is now;
he uses time slowly without anxiety.
Within our own chests, his lesson of the slow, of patience, we need learn.
More can be learned from the wind passing though the leaves as you sit amongst them than by swiftly traveling past along the branches of the tree.
~ Mary Jane Goodman
Mary Jane's Shoes 