The tired grip, the aching hold,
A story whispered, often told.
Of what was lost, or yet to be,
A chain invisible, for you to see.
You clutched it tight, a precious fear,
Each passing season, year by year.
The weight grew heavy, dull and deep,
While restless promises would sleep.
But in the quiet, softest sigh,
Beneath an understanding sky,
A deeper wisdom starts to bloom,
To banish shadows from the room.
Like fingers slowly, one by one,
Unclench their task, when it is done.
The breath held tight, now soft and deep,
Secrets the heart no longer keeps.
A tremble first, a sudden space,
A tear that glistens on your face.
For letting go means emptiness,
Before it brings you tenderness.
The what-ifs fade, the past recedes,
The bitter roots, the thorny weeds.
The expectation, sharp and grand,
Now slips like water through your hand.
And in the void, a gentle hum,
A space for what is yet to come.
For seeds of joy, a vibrant hue,
New light to filter, fresh and true.
So trust the current, let it flow,
Where gentle breezes softly blow.
For freedom waits on open air,
When you have ceased to hold and bear.