Fragments of the Quiet Mind

When twilight descends, as slumber draws near, 'Tis not the venomous words of foes that linger, But in the hush of companions, a cherished sphere. For in the depths of night's quiet embrace, The echoes of enmity slowly fade away, Replaced by whispers of friendship and grace. The wounds inflicted by adversaries' spite, Though painful and cruel in their transient might, Hold no lasting weight, no enduring might. Instead, 'tis the stillness of loyal hearts, The solace found in unspoken devotion, That etches itself upon memory's arts. When shadows dance and the world grows dim, The tender silence of friends speaks volumes, A symphony of trust and kinship within. So, as sleep beckons, reflect on this truth, That amidst life's trials and its endless bends, It's in the silence of friends, a treasure aloof.

We live as if endings are always signs of failure. As if something must be broken for the door to close, the chapter to end, the thread to unravel. But sometimes, things don’t end because they’ve fallen apart. They end because they’ve simply... faded.  Fading doesn’t need fixing. It’s not a flaw in the design of the universe—it’s just a shift in the seasons. Some things are meant to exist only for a time. They come to you like light from a distant star, bright and warm, but you can’t hold it forever. You can only bask in it while it’s here. We fear the end, don’t we? The clean break that leaves us standing in the aftermath, wondering what we missed. But maybe it’s not about what we missed. Maybe it’s about what we gained in the process of letting go. Not everything that fades is lost. Not everything that ends is broken. Some things end because they’ve already given us what they came to give. And that’s enough. We hold on too tightly to moments, people, dreams, as if by sheer forc...