For decades,
I thought resting and reverence
once a week
was a bizarre concept.
I felt like stopping
meant losing.
Keep moving.
Keep chasing.
Keep finding something
to fill the empty spaces.
A man can get used to noise
and the constant doing.
Always doing.
The phone ringing.
The bills coming.
The next problem
seeping in through the cracks.
Doing this.
Doing that.
Even the things that destroy us
can become familiar.
Chaos becomes a friend,
slipping in for a cup of coffee.
Then one day,
I read from that old book.
And there it is.
A day set aside.
No running.
No working.
No fixing.
No proving.
Just rest.
Think about the Creator.
I hear it
in the songs of sparrows.
I see it
in the clouds dancing
across the sky.
I wake up early,
drink my coffee slowly,
and somehow the hardest thing
to do
is nothing.
Just be.
The flesh wants motion.
The mind craves distraction.
The old ghosts knock on the door,
asking if I forgot
how to run.
But maybe peace
isn't the absence of something.
Maybe it was waiting here,
quietly,
the whole time.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 4th, 2026 06:26
- Comment from author about the poem: I recently posted a new poetry reading on my YouTube channel, featuring work from my upcoming collection Searching for Nod. You can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/@ThomasWCase My books are also available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Thomas-W.-Case/author/B0CL2RKDGX?ref=sr_
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Friendship, cellinic
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Comments7
Stillness and silence can kill to a life built on constant motion. When we allow ourselves to simply exist, things begin to get peaceful and become truly liveable. Good stuff, Thomas. 🕊️🙏
Thank you, my friend.
Thomas, I feel and understand your position perfectly, as I feel very much the same way. I do believe this to be a perfect depiction of old age.
Thank you, my friend.
old age has a habit of creeping up on us, good write friend
Thank you.
most welcome
Thomas this one makes sense even as a kid to be told one must rest was not something to be looked forward to. Motors need continual running and machines rust when not used. An athlete needs continual warming up and stretching to not pull muscles. Written in such an understandable language. Loved it Thomas
Thank you, my friend.
You are very welcome Thomas
What a deeply meaningful poem, Thomas. The struggle to embrace Sabbath feels profoundly authentic...especially when a lifetime of relentless productivity has taught us to feel guilty for honoring our human limits. This reached me personally, my friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you, my friend.
Well written
ty
To do is just nothing, just be... this is a clue to the resolution of many problems. A fave)
Thanks
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