The Stillness Beneath Me

The Stillness Beneath Me They said I’d know I’m fully alive when laughter bloomed or sorrow cried. But both are gusts that pass me by— and neither one has ever lied. Yet neither tells the whole of me. They come, they go—I watch, I breathe. The truth is not the thrill or ache but what remains when both do leave. Contentment is a quieter ground, not found in peaks, not lost in pain. It doesn’t beg to be believed— it simply is, like sun and rain. So let the feelings rise and fall, like waves that kiss and leave the shore. I am the stillness under all— no less, no more. Not in the rise, nor in the thrill, does wisdom take her root and rest but in the ache that asks no why, in hands unclenched, in soul undressed. The voices deep within the dark do not demand—they gently stay. They do not shout like happiness, but walk with me, a steadier way.