When I stepped into
the valley, the wind was soft—like someone whispering beside my ear. No one had
brought me here, and no map had guided me, yet my feet moved as if they knew
the way by heart.
In the center of the
valley stood a glowing tree, like something born of dreams. It wasn’t tall, but
it carried a quiet dignity, a stillness that silenced even my thoughts.
I moved closer, and my
heartbeat slowed.
The tree said nothing,
yet I heard it.
It wasn’t words—it was
resonance. A memory rising from deep within:
The night I first dreamed of flying.
The warmth of an unexpected embrace.
The way a long-gone cat once told me “I love you” with its eyes.
I sat down gently,
resting against the trunk, and closed my eyes.
Then, a sentence rose
from within me:
"What you're
hearing isn’t the wind—it’s you."
And in that moment, I
understood:
All the answers we seek…
They’ve always lived within us,
waiting for just one quiet moment
to speak.
I don’t know how long
I stayed.
But when I left the valley,
I carried nothing with me—
and somehow, I carried the echo of the universe itself.
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