The Silence Where Listening Begins

The mask is on. You are moving through the morning, smiling at the right times, nodding when names are called. But inside, there is a silence where your prayers used to echo. Now, the words rise up and hit nothing. They fall back down, heavy and unanswered. You wonder if the room has changed, or if you have simply forgotten how to speak.

But listen — the silence you feel is not an absence. It is a depth you have not yet measured. The light does not always roar; sometimes it waits in the quiet, deeper than the noise of your own doubt. You are not shouting into a void. You are standing in a presence so vast it has no need to echo back to prove it is there.

The words you speak are already heard, not because they are loud, but because they are yours. And the One who hears them is closer than the breath that forms them. The silence is not the end of the conversation. It is the space where the listening begins.