I Alone

Other people have plans,
their days stacked like boxes,
labeled next, after, someday.
I alone carry none.

Other people hurry,
eyes fixed on clocks and screens,
pulled forward by a future
that never quite arrives.
I alone sit.

Other people collect answers,
opinions polished sharp,
certainties worn like armor.
I alone am soft,
unfinished,
willing not to know.

Other people are busy proving
they belong.
I alone wander,
like an unclaimed child of the world,
with nothing to defend.

They build their cages carefully—
status, fear, expectation—
then call them responsibilities.
I alone step outside the bars
and feel the wind.

This is not laziness.
This is not escape.
This is remembering
that peace does not come
from winning the race,
but from realizing
you never had to run.

When you stop grasping,
life stops gripping you.
When you loosen your plans,
your breath loosens too.

Be empty enough
to be free.
Still enough
to hear yourself again.