Quiescence
The act of healing,
this work of repair,
this mending—
does not vanish into completion.
It does not end in wholeness,
nor conclude in perfection.
It ends in stability.
It settles like stone into balance,
into a ground that holds.
And from that bedrock,
a breath of light drifts forward.
Something quieter begins to move;
a softer current stirs,
as though the tide begins to turn.
Not desire, nor echo;
not need, nor longing;
not hunger, nor ache,
nor plea—
but the shimmer of essence,
the quiet weight of presence,
the stillness of being.
Copyright © Skye Ceibhfhionn | Year Posted 2026
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