'Why’ - The Question That Never Ends

Why? I ask.

Why does the heart feel full one day, and hollow the next?

Why do some spend their whole life building, only to feel empty once it’s all built?

Why do people leave when we need them the most?

Why does silence feel heavy in a crowd, yet soft in solitude?

Why does love sometimes hurt more than hate?

Why do the ones who give the most, often receive the least?

Why is truth so difficult to say, and lies so easy to wear?

Why do we smile while crying inside?

Why do we ask for freedom, yet fear space when it comes?

Why does death arrive before the goodbye is ready?

Why do questions pile like stones, and answers float like clouds?

Endless why.. I ask again..!!

No one teaches you how to live in the absence of answers.

They teach you how to seek, how to chase, how to gather and assemble, but no one shows you how to sit, how to relax in the ache of uncertainty, in the pause before becoming, in the wilderness of not knowing. No one..!!

We inherit the desire for understanding but inherit 'no map.'

And perhaps… that is the map. May be!

Osho said, “The mystery of life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.”

But what if mystery itself is not asking to be experienced or explained either?

What if it simply is, a silent guest at your doorstep, neither asking for attention, nor giving explanation?

You open the door. It does not speak.

You wait. It does not move.

You ask. It does not answer.

And then, suddenly, there is no one left to ask. Why? I wonder, are we so obsessed with answers that we forget how to become the question?

And isn't it that only in becoming the question that we realise, we were never meant to solve life rather were meant to merge with it? To become the open sky rather than the meteorologist. To be the silence not the echo. To disappear into the wondering.

In Advaita Vedanta, they call this the pathless path.

You do not go anywhere. You simply strip away what you are not. And when the seeker dissolves, the sought is already here. Not in the future. Not in an answer. But in the still presence that asks nothing, proves nothing, demands nothing.

A paradox?

That the more you seek, the further you drift. But once you stop, the truth comes uninvited.

That the question burns louder the closer you get. But the flame doesn’t destroy, it purifies.

That the one you are searching for… has been sitting quietly behind your eyes the entire time.

some doors are not meant to open,

some are meant to be sat beside,

with your back against the unknown,

breathing the air of surrender,

watching your shadow lengthen,

until even it lets go,

not all paths are roads,

some are unravelings,

some are soft dissolvings,

some are not paths at all,

just the echo of your own footsteps,

in a place where questions,

turn back into wind.

Even though my endless 'why' remains open, unfinished, unanswered, I continue, with a soft ache and a hard knock, at the door of 'the unknown.'

If something stirred while reading this, echo it back to the silence from which it came.

No rush to speak. No need to explain. Just a breath, or a stillness, returned.

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

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