The Silence Was Never Empty

The afternoon stretches out, a long, flat road where the only sound is the hum of your own doubt. You are afraid that if you finally speak the truth inside your silence, you will realize there is nothing there but your own small, trembling voice.

That if you break the quiet, you will find only emptiness staring back. But listen — the light does not shout over the noise.

It lives in the quietest part of you. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world.

Your voice is not small because it is alone. It is small because you are hearing it from the inside, where the immeasurable light has made its home.

When you speak, you are not speaking into a void. You are speaking from the center of a fire that has been guarding itself until it blazes.

The silence was never empty. It was waiting for you to trust the sound of your own remembering.