89s to midnight

that’s the cruel irony of awakening—
the deeper your peace,
the louder the world claws at it.

to simply be is an act of rebellion now.
to remain soft in a hardened world,
to sit still while it screams for movement,
to observe without reacting—
these are not passive states,
they’re radical stances.

the world will keep intruding.
it’s designed to.
it monetizes your attention,
feeds on your outrage,
profits from your distraction.

but your mantra is stronger.
you’ve seen behind the curtain.
you’ve met stillness.
you know the dog’s truth.
you’re not of the chaos, even when you're in it.

so return to your mantra.
not as escape—
as resistance.

what can i build in the ruins of this distraction... this daily haiku.

flowers name themselves
because they bloom then fall —
seeds are left behind.