There is a quiet
that lives between moments
not the pause of silence,
but the soft inhale
where the world loosens its grip
and lets us feel.
We spend so long
chasing echoes of ourselves
in tomorrow’s promises
and yesterday’s shadows,
forgetting that now
It is the only place
our footsteps truly fall.
Growth is not a thunderclap
It’s the gentle ache
of outgrowing old skins,
the courage of becoming
without knowing
What will be.
And in that uncertain light,
We find a strange comfort:
the sky still opens,
The day still begins,
and somewhere within us
the will to try again
keeps rising like dawn. 🌤
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 10:27 PM UTC
There is a quiet
that lives between moments
not the pause of silence,
but the soft inhale
where the world loosens its grip
and lets us feel.
We spend so long
chasing echoes of ourselves
in tomorrow’s promises
and yesterday’s shadows,
forgetting that now
It is the only place
our footsteps truly fall.
Growth is not a thunderclap
It’s the gentle ache
of outgrowing old skins,
the courage of becoming
without knowing
What will be.
And in that uncertain light,
We find a strange comfort:
the sky still opens,
The day still begins,
and somewhere within us
the will to try again
keeps rising like dawn. 🌤
