Universes Silent Tongue

The Universe's Silent Tongue

The universe has this uncanny way—  

a quiet architect working beneath the noise,  

arranging catastrophes into constellations,  

turning inconvenience into instruction.

We rail against the hand we're dealt,  

scream at cards we didn't choose,  

exhaust ourselves arguing with what is,  

as if volume could rearrange the stars.

But the wise grow silent.  

They learn the terrain like a new language,  

study what's already present,  

trust their own knowing  

to construct something new from old soil.

Not perfection—never perfection—  

but knowledge blooming along the journey,  

each stumble a synthesis,  

each mistake a teacher  

we hadn't thought to invite.

Even when we think we know it all,  

something minuscule escapes us,  

a detail hiding in plain sight,  

a thread we forgot to follow.

Many proclaim truth as if it needs announcing,  

as if truth requires our validation,  

our signs and declarations,  

when perhaps it only asks  

to be understood, accepted,  

held gently in silent recognition.

We are phobic of paradox,  

allergic to contradiction,  

yet humanity itself is woven from both—  

and so is the universe,  

that ancient practitioner of impossible balance,  

spinning chaos into order  

for eons before we learned to name it.

Above us: serene pattern,  

cosmic choreography we mistake for indifference.  

We call it cold when we are the confused ones,  

projecting absence onto silence,  

missing the conversation entirely.

There's a pattern here—  

has always been a pattern—  

but collectively, we're not stopping,  

not laying down attention like an offering,  

not listening for the language beneath language.

It's not about what the world demands of you.  

It's about what you demand of yourself  

within the world's wide margins.

Not the degrees or the houses,  

not the accumulation of proof,  

but sometimes—often—  

a haven for peace of mind,  

a small clearing in the noise,  

is more than enough.

The universe has this uncanny way.  

Perhaps it's time we stopped shouting  

and learned to speak its dialect:  

patience, silence, trust,  

and the courage to let things align  

in their own mysterious time.