The Pause That Speaks

Your Truth Waiting Beyond the Echoes

It’s a whisper in the quiet dawn when all the World is a half-breath away from waking. Not the silence in spaces of forced solitude or the sound of silence lulling you into a cold, empty chamber.

This silence is different. It’s real. Real with hints of conversation that whisper in the breeze, and the rustling of leaves on the other side, which spin for their own sake, not because they have to.

There is no pressure this time, no attentive stares, no critical minds.
Only you, at the beginning of a day. A day that has not demanded of you.

And yet, isn’t it curious, this seduction?

This weight of expectation that follows like a shadow,
even when the World has yet to stir?

Then again, it’s odd the number of times we have let the voice of another fill the silence. As if their sentences, their opinions, their truths were more real than the weak drifts of our own. We do it so gently, so inoffensively, that we don’t bother to inquire.

We roll our eyes at the chorus, tapping our feet to the beat, humming to an accompaniment that never had any of our own.