A Microcosm of Being

I should like to live like a koi fish,
gliding beneath a curtain of water lilies,
where the whole of the world
is a pond,
and the pond is enough.

A castle of reflected sky,
green shadows,
and drifting petals,
where nothing
asks to be solved.

His small mouth opens,
closes,
opens again,
unbothered by being.

Meanwhile,
I’m forever wandering
the edges
of my own pond,
troubled by distant storms,
and the endless weather
of my own thoughts.

I forget
the cup beside me.
My meal,
waiting to be tasted.
A garden unfolding
just beyond the window.
I do not notice
the beauty
of the castle
I already inhabit.

Perhaps this is both
the burden
and the blessing
of being human.

The koi knows only
his pond.
The houseplant,
its humble pot.
The wren,
the shelter of a hedge.
Each inhabits
a complete world.

Yet I can hold
the whole trembling globe
inside my mind
until it becomes
a shaken snow globe,
every worry swirling,
every certainty
refusing to settle.

Watching him,
I wonder
if wisdom has never been
about escaping life’s currents,
but discovering
the stillness
that lives quietly
within them.

Perhaps every living thing
is entrusted
with a world.
Mine is simply larger
than I was meant
to hold
all at once.

So today,
I return
to the stillness
of the pond
within me.

For perhaps
the smallest worlds
reveal
the largest truths.

💛✨

🌙 If Sanctuary has lit a small lantern for you, I'd be honoured if you subscribed. Every free or paid subscription helps to support my writing and lights the way for others to find Sanctuary. Thank you for walking this path with me.

Subscribe now

© 2026 Kim West. All rights reserved. All writing, original photography, artwork, illustrations, audio recordings, guided meditations, worksheets, downloadable resources, and other original content published in Sanctuary and Linger are protected by copyright.

Please share links to this publication, but do not reproduce, republish, distribute, adapt, or use any part of this content, in whole or in part, without my prior written permission.

Share Sanctuary by Kim West

The Moon’s Promise

“I love you forever,” said the moon to the stars.

“And I will keep returning,” she promised, “even when the sky is hidden and clouds persuade the world I’ve gone away.

When you are scattered across the longest winter, I’ll gather your light into my quiet hands.

When dawn asks us to part, do not mistake my absence for an ending. The day has its own work, and I have always trusted the dark to bring us home again.

We are not together because we never leave. We are together because we always return.”

The stars answered only by shining,
for some promises are too ancient to need words.

Only we, watching from the earth,
mistake a horizon for goodbye,
or believe that what slips beyond our sight
has slipped beyond our love.

The moon has been trying to tell us otherwise
all along.

💛✨

🌙 If Sanctuary has lit a small lantern for you, I’d be honoured if you subscribed. Every free or paid subscription helps to support my writing and lights the way for others to find Sanctuary. Thank you for walking this path with me.

Subscribe now

© 2026 Kim West. All rights reserved. All writing, original photography, artwork, illustrations, audio recordings, guided meditations, worksheets, downloadable resources, and other original content published in Sanctuary and Linger are protected by copyright.

Please share links to this publication, but do not reproduce, republish, distribute, adapt, or use any part of this content, in whole or in part, without my prior written permission.

Share Sanctuary by Kim West

My Summer Sweetheart

Every summer
you return to me

in pink ice cream,
melting faster
than we could eat it.

In peaches
from a roadside stand,
warm from the day’s sun,
their sweetness
running down our cheeks.

In the lake,
scattering diamonds
across the afternoon
while we sat
on the cabin deck,
contented with the day
and each other.

In nasturtiums,
small cups of flame
spilling through the garden.

Beneath the old pergola,
where climbing roses
braided themselves overhead,
their petals drifting
onto our shoulders.

At the quiet shore,
where we were
three little ducklings,
happy
to drift together.

Along the boardwalk,
lavender and sage
warming the evening air,
our footsteps lingering
long after dusk.

In fireworks
opening bright flowers
above the dark water,
each bloom fading
before another arrived.

In slow walks
through the garden.

In a picnic
beneath the old maple,
where the shade held us
like an old friend.

In our annual search
for the elusive lake monster,
pretending each ripple
might become
a tale
worth telling.

We found
something rarer.

Summers
that did not know
they were becoming
memories.

That quiet shore
is no more.

The ducks
have found
another place
to gather.

Yet somehow,

the peaches
still ripen,

the roses
still climb,

the wind chimes still sing,

as the lavender
still perfumes
the evening air.

Every summer,
I buy peaches
and sit beside you
in the garden.

Perhaps this is how love
continues,

inside the places
that remember us.

Like the winding road
we once cruised,

where the lake
borrowed the blue
of the mountains,

and the mountains
borrowed the blue
of the sky,

until no one could say
where one ended
and the other begins.

No longer held
by hands,
or time,

love lives

where the memories
meet longing,

in midnight, the moon,
and the stars in the sky,

in the place
where one ends

and the other
begins.

Where the lake remembers us.

Every summer,
my sweetheart,

we’ll find you there.

💛✨

🌙 If Sanctuary has lit a small lantern for you, I’d be honoured if you subscribed. Every free or paid subscription helps to support my writing and lights the way for others to find Sanctuary. Thank you for walking this path with me.

Subscribe now

© 2026 Kim West. All rights reserved. All writing, original photography, artwork, illustrations, audio recordings, guided meditations, worksheets, downloadable resources, and other original content published in Sanctuary and Linger are protected by copyright.

Please share links to this publication, but do not reproduce, republish, distribute, adapt, or use any part of this content, in whole or in part, without my prior written permission.

Share Sanctuary by Kim West