Started as a coping method,
a form to find a distraction.
Now I am forever indebted,
from my sincerest compassion.
Maybe it was mental,
a condition caused by a broken heart.
Maybe all I needed was to mend
the cracks with some historic form of art.
Something to find inner peace,
an ailment with each inhale.
To find calm within me,
with every exhale.
And into my being I dive,
deep into my own soul.
Maybe this journey is what drives
beings into becoming whole.
A mindfulness painted in shades,
of cold, warm, and lively colors.
Cross-legged inside this space,
the silence grows louder.
Down with my yoga mat,
that is where I want to be.
Where I want to be at,
where I get to see the real me.
