“The body paints its own poetry when it moves without demand.”

Dance, walk, stretch, sway, move the way wind moves through trees. No counts, no goals, no punishment. Just motion that lets the mind exhale. In those minutes, art happens, rhythm without reason, grace without judgment.

Let your heartbeat set the tempo,
your breath the brushstroke,
motion becomes devotion
when a surrender is your guide.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

 Choose one song and move to it, for at least ten minutes. Feel where tension hides and let rhythm loosen it.

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