Surrendering to Stillness

(and a quiet surrender to self)

My feet are worn out,
and I have stopped running.

The sidewalk stretches
like a ribbon of quiet comfort
beneath my being.

It no longer feels like a place
once filled with devotion,
now left to the quiet passage of time.

The passersby
do not throw stones from their glass houses
as I once anticipated.

Perhaps I am meant to rest here—
held soundly by something
in the cracks of the earth.

Perhaps the sidewalk,
with Divinity in the crevices
and sacrosanct beneath the sun,
is better than being carried
by swollen soles
into the skyline.