The Weightless Truth

Some truths do not arrive with thunder.

They do not demand belief, nor wear the robes of certainty. They arrive quietly, like breath you didn’t know you were holding. They’re not found in books, though they sometimes hide between the lines. Not carved into stone, though they live longer than stone ever could.

You may have felt them. In the space after a loss. In the stillness of an unanswered prayer. In the pause after laughter, when something deeper whispers underneath.

The Dhammapada offers a single line:

“Just as a solid rock is not shaken by the storm, the wise are not moved by praise or blame.”

Truth does not cling. It does not defend itself. It does not need your agreement to remain true.

some truths cannot be held, only touched, they rest like dust on still water, disappearing when disturbed,

they do not rise when spoken, they do not fade when forgotten, they move like shadows in the wind, felt more than seen,

you may find them when you stop seeking, you may lose them the moment you try to explain,

they are not a destination, they are the silence you passed on the way.

Sit for a moment. Not to grasp, but to soften. Let the need to define dissolve. What if truth isn’t something you learn, but something you remember? What if it doesn’t arrive, but has been quietly waiting all along?

If something stirred in you, don’t name it just yet. Let it breathe. Let it be.

And if you feel moved, leave a soft trace below. Or simply carry it in the hush between your next two thoughts.

----------

© 2025 Beyond Silence. Written by 'the one listening'.

If shared, please credit with care.