Scribbled Peace, Scheduled Life

More about Scribbled Peace, Scheduled Life

A short reflection

I once saw a note on someone’s desk.
It had a crooked sun drawn in blue ink,
a little house with smoke rising from the chimney,
three flowers, and a tree with round leaves.
Right in the center, cutting through the roof of the house,
it said:
“1 PM – meeting at the office.”

And suddenly I realized...

We spend our lives working for dreams we never get to live.
We draw peace on corners of paper,
in between emails,
in lunch breaks we don’t take,
in meetings where we forget to breathe.

We imagine soft grass, a breeze, a place to rest –
but we never go there.
The ink runs out before we finish the tree.
The sun has no warmth.
The flowers don’t bloom.

Because the schedule is full.
And so are our hands.
But our hearts… are starving.