Rest, reset, resist the urge to do;
Just be, now, in this moment while it lasts,
This Sabbath forced upon you for your good;
Upon your pillow turn the other cheek.
Don’t forecast, formulate, or even fume;
Find the world’s fullness hiding in a leaf,
The utter excess of the things that are
Themselves but also somehow something more—
Let them sink into your soul like water into soil,
Trickling through the tightness of the years
To nourish needy, dry forgotten depths.
Unlearn your failure to appreciate,
Stop saving for tomorrow’s wastefulness;
Quit the restless rage at all that’s wrong, and
Delight yourself in making coffee right.
Remove your raft from rushing data streams,
Look around and “get what the writing means.”
Get good at things that won’t increase your pay;
Please say the things you’ve always meant to say.
Remember how it felt to really laugh
Without the slightest tinge of grown-up care
And simply wonder like a child at simple things.
Then wash away the grime that has accrued
And see again the world’s resplendent hues.