The Bridge of Sound
That night, I heard a
voice.
Not the kind your ears
catch —
but like ripples moving through my body, resonating deep within.
It wasn’t a language, yet I understood.
It wasn’t music, yet I was moved.
It was the most
familiar unfamiliar sound.
A call from another time-space version of me — gently whispering:
“You’ve finally heard
me.”
I stood in the dark,
unsure whether that voice came from afar or from the hollow of my own chest.
And in that moment, I
knew:
So often, what we call “communication” is just the brushing of surfaces.
True sound lives where words fall silent —
in the soft sensing between soul and soul.
I realized I had spent
a lifetime learning how to “speak”,
but had forgotten how to listen.
I had been expressing,
without ever truly voicing
what was essential.
That voice isn’t meant
to be heard by others.
It’s meant to resonate with myself.
It asks for no
decoration.
It’s raw, free, and transparent.
Like a stream. Like the wind.
Like a bird that lands briefly at your window,
delivering a message from a new season — without a single sound.
I’m learning to be
still now,
to listen to the parts of me that haven’t yet been spoken.
There, I find what I
truly wish to say.
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