I learn the art of giving myself a rest.

In the quiet shadows where my tired soul roves,
Yearning for a respite, as weariness cloaks,
To become less conscious, as weariness churns,
Seeking solace in the quiet corners, a place to rest.

A bit less conscious, in the silent groves,
Less a thinker, where shadows softly nest,
Your lines blend seamlessly, like ghosts unconfessed.
I learn the art of giving myself a rest.

Is there a way, the weary whispers plea,
To be a bit less, and set my spirit free?
In the dance of shadows, your lines invest,
As I navigate this labyrinth, seeking my best.

Less of a giver, echoes in the weary breeze,
To replenish the spirit, find moments to seize,
Your words, a guide, in the shadows’ bequest,
As I learn the art of giving myself a rest.

Less belief, the tired heart implores,
In doubts, find refuge, where certainty soars,
In the tapestry of questioning, manifest,
A sanctuary where beliefs find a gentle rest.

Less careful, a tired plea takes flight,
To dance on the edge, where risks alight,
Your lines intertwine in the daring quest,
As I embrace the art of being a bit less careful.

A bit less cheerful, the weary heart sighs,
In the spectrum of feelings, let emotions rise,
Your words resonate, a companion in the quest,
As I find beauty in emotions unexpressed.

To feel less pain, a weary prayer unfurls,
Within acceptance, healing gently swirls,
Your lines, a balm, in pain be immersed,
As I find strength in vulnerability nursed.

To be a bit careless, a fragile art,
Unshackle the heart, from cares depart,
Yet tread with caution, in your words, I’m blessed,
For recklessness may birth regrets unguessed.

If a way you find, my tired soul entreats,
To grant me rest, where weariness retreats,
In the sanctuary of peace, your lines invest,
As I find reprieve, my tired soul at rest.

work combination with A.I.


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