Gentleness drifts where the soft winds sigh,
through fields where the feathered grasses lie.
It moves like mist on the morning air,
touching the world with tender care.
It speaks in the hush of a falling leaf,
in the quiet comfort of hidden relief.
Like moonlight resting on rivers that glide,
a peaceful presence none can divide.
Gentleness grows where the wildflowers bend,
never in force, yet strong in the end.
It knows the power of patient grace,
the calm that no storm can erase.
It hums in the wings of a hovering dove,
carrying currents of healing love.
Soft as the dew on the dawn-lit ground,
a sacred kindness quietly found.
The mountains listen, the oceans agree,
true strength lives in serenity.
For rivers carve stone not through might alone,
but through gentle persistence time has shown.
So walk like the breeze through the wide open sky,
letting harsh hurried moments pass by.
For gentleness is the universe’s art –
the soft, steady strength of a peaceful heart.
