Life is a mirror—
quiet, unassuming,
catching the shape of what we are.
In its stillness stands a bonsai tree,
twisted by years,
softened by patience,
a universe held in a palm of green.
Behind it, candles of time flicker,
each flame a season,
each glow a memory
leaning gently toward the next.
Nothing rushes.
Nothing insists.
Peace is simply this moment—
the tree, the light,
the mirror holding it all
without needing to change a thing.
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