Still Life

Still.
Quiet.
The light coming through the window.

For just this moment
you are still,
without premise, or purpose,
content,
willing,
to simply be,

to ignore the complications
and trust your God
to sort out the details
and leave you
bliss.

About this poem. 

When I fret and worry, nothing good happens. When I let go and let life happen, somehow it works. A lesson I have to learn again and again. I am a slow learner, it seems.

Tom