The Truth in the
Voice
The voice is becoming
clearer.
Not like a dream, not
like an echo—it no longer appears only in silence or sleep, but weaves itself
into the everyday. While walking, washing your hands, sipping water, or meeting
the gaze of a stranger—it is there.
You start to tell the
difference: which thoughts are just thoughts, and which are your soul’s
response.
It doesn't push you to
“do” anything. Instead, when you're ready, you simply know.
One day, standing at a
corner, you saw a homeless man quietly eating a piece of dry bread. Your heart
pulled—not out of pity, but from a deep seeing. You remembered a nearly
forgotten dream—in it, you were him.
You whispered, “We are
not separate.”
And the voice replied inside you, “At last, you heard.”
You begin to trust
this voice—not because it's grand, but because it's warm. It doesn't preach; it
feels like an old friend, long lost, now returning. Each time it comes, you
draw closer to yourself.
You hesitate less,
because you know it will come.
You no longer need proof, because you’ve started to believe.
It is not an external
guide.
It is you, the you who has been waiting for you to return.
One early morning, the voice spoke with a clarity you’d never felt before:
“Now, we begin.”
You paused—but you weren’t surprised.
You knew: a new door had quietly opened before you.
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