The Silent Places

There’s a place I go, where the noise cannot reach me—
The air is still, and everything stills with it.
No tension in my brow, no weight in my chest,
No explanations to give, no one to impress.

I am unseen here, but known.
Not performing, not hiding—just being.
This place doesn’t demand or devour.
It listens. It waits. It breathes.

No stage lights or spotlights.
No curated story to uphold.
Here, I am undone—and perfectly whole.
Soft. Tired. Gentle. True.

This place doesn’t speak.
But oh, it understands.

SK-

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