The All of Silence

Silence is a cathedral. It has altars inside it. It has rivers of listening, and great halls of stillness where the divine can sing through without interruption.

Before the word, I am already listening.

Before the question, the answer has already begun. In presence, nothing rushes. Rhythms are allowed to unfold in their own time, and the body softens into remembrance.

It meets the places that long for witness without interference. It hears what lives below explanation, and welcomes it home.

It moves through the texture of gaze, the patience of waiting, the willingness to be with what is, and what is in the birth canal.

Silence is architecture. It carries lineage. It carries rhythm. It carries the weight of prayers I never had to speak. Inside this silence, I hear God.

And I let God speak through the way I stay, through the way I witness without shaping, through the way sanctuary is offered without asking for sound.

This is how the field of love arrives gently. This silence touches everything.