What is it?

the ever-present Sun,

always brightening the day,

giving warmth to all,

without discrimination,

without an iota of division,

without a single question,

every day, every moment, shining.

what is it?

the ever-present Moon,

wandering around the earth,

offering its borrowed light,

to the lonely and the lovers alike,

without judgement,

without division,

without ever asking why.

what is it?

the forest, the trees,

rooted deep in silence,

holding the earth as if it were their own child,

they do not ask who walks upon them,

yet they shade the weary,

shelter the seekers,

breathe life into every breath.

what is it?

the wind, invisible wanderer,

blowing from all directions,

knowing someone waits for its touch,

it caresses the hair of the weary,

cools the skin of the burning,

whispers to the lonely,

and leaves without name or claim.

what is it?

the rain descends,

soft as compassion,

filling rivers, feeding fields,

knowing the farmer prays,

knowing the seed must break to bloom.

what is it?

the oceans and the seas,

vast mirrors of the sky,

they hold the storms,

they cradle the calm,

they swallow the tears of the world,

and return them as clouds.

what is it?

the sun, the moon, the forests, the seas,

they have seen truths rise and fall,

seen empires built on lies,

heard prayers whispered in pain,

songs sung in love,

yet they remain, untouched, undivided, unending.

they give, they flow, they exist,

without asking,

without choosing,

without needing to be known.

and I sit here wondering,

is it love?

Is it freedom?

Is it the law of nature,

or the silence that precedes all laws? or,

is it ache that silently offers compassion?

an ache that moves without destination,

that touches everything yet belongs to nothing,

an ache that dances within me,

not to wound, but to remind,

that to feel deeply,

is to be alive.

this ache kneels before every sunrise,

weeps quietly beneath every moon,

and still finds the courage to smile at dawn,

it is the tender pulse beneath all giving,

the invisible thread that binds,

joy and sorrow,

life and death,

being and becoming.

maybe, just maybe,

it is that which has no name,

the eternal witness,

the still heart of all that moves.

Remembering Buddha who once said, “All conditioned things are impermanent; when one sees this with wisdom, one turns away from suffering.”

and perhaps,

all that shines, flows, breathes, and gives,

is nothing but that existence we call 'wisdom',

expressing itself endlessly,

lovingly,

without question. ----------

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

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