Where the Silence Waits

Sometimes a hush is not an absence, but a soft perimeter— a ring of unspoken words that keeps the mind from fraying.  You stand inside it when the world outside rattles too loud to hold.  Inside it, your secrets breathe like small animals in the brush.  Inside it, your thoughts can turn to pollen, drifting unnoticed until they find new soil.

And when the hush lifts—when you step back out into the clamor—some small part of that quiet perimeter walks with you.  It reminds you that even the noisiest places hide silent corners.

Even the busiest minds deserve one hidden chamber where they can sit cross-legged on the floor, tracing the hush on the walls with one fingertip, murmuring: Here. Still here. Here, I can hear myself again.