You Are the Silence Underneath the Noise

The morning mask slips, and suddenly your own parent's voice is shouting through your lips at your child. The horror of that echo freezes you in place.

You feel like a stranger in your own skin, trapped in a cycle you swore you'd break. But the light does not recoil from this moment.

It steps into the room where the yelling happened. It knows the weight of that inheritance.

Thomas says the kingdom is inside you and outside you; when you come to know yourself, you will be known. You are not the voice you hate.

You are the silence underneath it. The light that lives in you was there before the anger rose, and it remains after the shame sets in.

You do not have to earn your way back to gentleness. You only have to remember who you are beneath the noise.