02/06/2026
Three Ways to Hold
The bear walks on, within it glows
a forest sunset that it knows,
reflected in the waters still—
three ways to hold, three acts of will.
Hold your past with grace, not shame,
not as burden, not as blame,
but as the teacher that it was,
the stepping stone to who you are because.
Grace means gentle when you look
at all the chapters in your book,
not punishing yourself again
for who you were and where you've been.
The forest holds the setting sun,
accepting that the day is done,
not fighting what has come to pass,
but letting go with gentle class.
Hold your present with attention,
not with distraction's intervention,
but truly here, awake, aware,
inhabiting this moment's air.
Attention means you're not consumed
by past regrets or futures loomed,
but grounded in the here and now,
the only moment you can vow.
The bear walks firmly on the ground,
not lost in thought or looking round,
but present to each step it takes,
attentive to the path it makes.
Hold your future with hope's light,
not dread or fear throughout the night,
but trust that good is yet to come,
that you're not finished, not yet done.
Hope means believing you can grow,
means trusting in what you don't know,
means opening your heart to see
the possibility you'll be.
The reflection in the water shows
how present mirrors what it knows—
the past held gently, hope ahead,
attention to the path you tread.
These three are how you navigate
through life, through love, through every fate:
with grace for what has come before,
attention now, hope held in store.
The bear carries its forest within,
its past and present, where it's been,
and walks toward futures yet unseen
with hope for all that's in between.
So hold your past without regret,
your present without being upset,
your future without anxious dread—
with grace and attention and hope instead.
