Aimee Treakle, Friends of Guest House

What if I think of this

time as a drop of water

falling into a puddle with

such fluidity that it makes

no ripples adding to the

volume of time without

the waves of action and

reaction. Simply sliding into the

next moment.

In this most sacred time

feed your spirit. While the

sand is falling silently body

and mind muted with solidarity

spend these precious grains

of time feeding your soul.

I promise myself to not

get lost in the sound

of silence the soundless

steps through the

sands of time.

I promise the world we

won’t be muted forever.

The seconds will tick the

minutes will thud and the

hours will ring. The drop

will birth waves and

the sands will sing.