Worry winds up.
Starts small then grinds your gears
Till the peak of fears.
Undoubtedly, then it’s the only thing that you’re sure of
So it stands to reason.
The key of irony
Holds the turns you must unbind;
Remove yourself
From the well of dwell and dread
Time and time again
To remain persistently present.
Fray the threads that wind- bind.
Give each moment its time,
In flow it’s natural to unwind-
Follow the slow depths of living’s rhythm.
