May You Remain Astonishable

For those of us
who have ever whispered into
the quiet dark,

Am I enough?

May you lay down
the old measures.

May you forget the counting
of your worth—

what you have done,
who stayed,
who noticed.

May you come to know
that enough was never a number
waiting to be reached.

May a butterfly find you
with only five seconds to spare,

and may you know
five seconds was not less
because it did not become six.

May someone's eyes
linger in yours
three seconds longer
than they needed to—

something beautiful
that happened.

May someone you love
cross your threshold,

and may something in you
still light
at the sight of them.

May rain undo your plans
and find you smiling
before disappointment does.

May the moon grow so bright
she takes center stage,
drawing the stars
behind her veil.

And when she makes her last call,
may you look up
and find them waiting—

the ancient night
full again.

May you want more
without making more
the admission price
for appreciating this.

More time.
More laughter.
Another morning.
Another hand to hold.

Want it.

There is no betrayal
in wanting tomorrow
while loving today.

There is no ingratitude
in dreaming of more
while standing fully
inside what is already here.

And when the old question
arises again—

Am I enough?

may you be too busy noticing
the ordinary moments
in front of you
to answer it.

May you discover
that a life need not be crowded
to be full.

That silence
is not always absence.

That time belonging to you
is not time wasted.

That there are mornings
when waking is enough reason
for gratitude,

even before anything
has happened.

May you have your health.
May you have time.

May you have days
that do not need to become
anything other than themselves.

May you be here.

And may the world
never grow so familiar
that wonder cannot find you.

May you remain
astonishable.

And may that be
enough.

With Grace & Ink,

Mai