Too busy to breathe, too tired to feel,
Chained to a clock like a cog in a wheel.
You race toward goals that are oft ill-defined,
Ignoring the joy you could have with this time.

 

Reclaim the now—three minutes just to play,
Let process go first—nothing else in the way.
Create for yourself a small slice of light,
Even taking out trash can feel just so right.

 

You glorify grind, you canonize stress,
Thinking overload will bring you success.
Even the retired claim they’re still trapped,
Their schedules so full, their freedom handi-capped.

 

What if the shift’s not some distant plan,
But declaring your might like God even can?
You name your world and create your view,
Three minutes ahead shaped entirely by you.

 

Reclaim the now—three minutes just to play,
Let process go first—nothing else in the way.
Create for yourself a small slice of light,
To take out the trash can feel just so right.

 

One tiny act, when awareness breaks,
Turns toleration to joy, yes that’s all it takes.
A breath and a stretch, and a playful tone—
You might even dance round the twilight zone.

 

My trash chute on the 31st floor becomes
A tribute to thousands, invisible drums.
I am the giant the ants do admire,
The artist of action, the keeper of fire.

 

Reclaim the now—three minutes just to play,
Let process go first—nothing else in the way.
Create for yourself a small slice of light,
To take out the trash can feel just so right.

 

Forget the myth that grind brings grace,
That only the outcome deserves a place.
If joy is the path, then you’ve already won,
Whether or not the results ever come.

 

So choose again, this moment, this spark—
A canvas awaits in the mundane and dark.
There’s no need to wait, or plan, or to climb—
You can start fresh, three minutes at a time.

 

Reclaim the now—three minutes just to play,
Let process go first—nothing else in the way.
Create for yourself a small slice of light,
To take out the trash can feel just so right.