Grand Rising

Every morning is a grand rising,

ascending in the midst of your vast

mind,

you priming mine to paint it 

with your lightness.

Where chaotic strokes of weight 

used to be, you wash the canvas clean

in regal gold, and reinvent the sharp

edges into velvet lilac.

I commend your artistic eye,

for brushing with patience,

and having a keen attention for

detail.

For it is hailed how you distill me, 

scrubbing my thoughts, and

massaging my muddled temple,

leaving me a simple way to exhale.

Now hold the palette steady while 

we blend this quiet space into a 

living gallery.

Each breath, a sweep of purple and

gold leaf, drying softly in the spaces

you renewed—

until the frame can barely hold the

peace.

—JG  ©2026