A Silence Between Me and Myself

 A Silence Between Me and Myself

There came a moment

when even my thoughts

grew tired of speaking.

I sat

not to meditate,

not to escape

just to be

with whatever remained.

Inside,

a thousand voices

waited their turn

memories, questions,

half-formed fears.

But something unseen

raised a gentle hand.

And one by one,

they fell quiet.

I did not silence them

they simply…

lost their urgency.

What remained

was not emptiness,

but a presence

so bare

it could not be named.

I looked for myself there

the one who speaks,

who decides,

who holds it all together.

But there was no center.

No narrator.

Only a vast,

unclaimed stillness.

For a moment,

I almost panicked

who am I

without my own voice?

But the question

had no place to land.

And so it dissolved.

Now there was just this

a silence

meeting itself.

No distance,

no dialogue,

no need to understand.

And in that strange,

intimate absence,

I realized

the silence between me and myself

was never a gap.

It was the place

where I had always

been whole.

मुकेश ,