soul’s garden, silence sleeps;
the wound hides deep, the wall it keeps.
false peace — a soft and quiet lie;
roots hold firm as truth flames fly.
There are times when silence is mistaken for peace.
When what is left unspoken
begins to settle beneath the surface.
It may appear calm,
but something within
knows otherwise.
Suppression cannot create harmony.
It only delays what is waiting to be seen.
And yet,
truth does not need to arrive with force.
It can speak
with care,
with presence,
with the intention to mend.
When truth is held this way,
something shifts.
The ground softens.
What was hidden
begins to take root in the open.
And from that place,
something real can grow.
— a reflection by Corvalya
Return to Where Truth Takes Root.
Notice what shifts.