How sacred it is to be able to think-
To be sentient and corporeal.
When your veins tingle;
visit roots in mind’s memorial.
Touch your feet upon the bare earth,
Yet be mindful of parking lots-
Glass or nails can hurt.

Open eyes to gaze at the sky-
Be bold enough to see,
To know you know nothing, yet you don’t need to know why.
Stop and smell the roses-
Or honey suckle, blackberry bushes too..

Come days end: only your soul knows;
When you lay down your head
When you reflect on the days end-
Is your heart heavier or did you lighten the load?

Did you live in love-
Exist outside of yourself?
Did you stop to smell the roses?
Through all sacred thoughts of the day,
How will they replay in minds memorial?

How sacred it is to have lungs;
To breathe in the ancient air.
Oxygen molecules pre-existing,
Your need for breath.
Did you stop to breathe in the universe?
Have you taken a moment to marvel and dance in the rain?

When your skin feels tight;
Breathing seems like a task,
When your veins tingle or bones ache;
Did you work to make peace with your pain?

How sacred it is to be able to reflect;
When you’re well and able,
Take a moment to see the ripples-
That you’ve started in your day-
Take that moment to protect,
Your own peace of mind.

When that door of opportunity closes
The gates that unlock;
Will unfold in your open eyes,
If you remember to stop and smell the roses.

How real and divine-
To be blessed with your very own mind.

-Hillary Rosenthal