Whispers of Light

It is quiet here—

not the kind that forgets,

but the kind that remembers

what the noise once tried to drown.

A stillness,

not empty,

but full—

with the weight of knowing

that cannot be named.

Enlightenment isn’t a shout.

It’s a breath held in the bones,

a flicker behind closed eyes

where truth hums softly—

not to be seen, but felt.

---