The Quiet Beneath Things
Morning arrives softly through the edges of the window.
Light touches the room as if it has always known the way.
Nothing asks for attention.
The world unfolds without effort—a leaf turning toward the sun,
the slow rhythm of breathing.
When we stop rushing to become something more,
we begin to feel the quiet that has been holding us all along.
And in that quiet life speaks in its simplest language: presence.
