Sometimes in the pause between thoughts, you catch it.
A stillness that was already there before you arrived.
Not thinking. Not deciding. Just watching.
You didn't create it. You can't command it.
But when the noise drops, there it is.
Quiet. Patient. Unmoved by what passes through.
We spend our lives speaking to ourselves.
Narrating. Judging. Rehearsing.
And forget that someone is always listening.
Not a voice. Not a critic.
Something older than language.
Call it soul. Call it witness.
Call it nothing at all.
It doesn't need a name.
It was here before you had one.
