They taught you to chant louder, pray harder, cry longer — as if the Divine were deaf, distracted, or distant.

But when you finally grew tired, when the noise no longer fed your spirit, you heard something terrifying and true:

The Voice was never outside you.

It whispered through stillness. It echoed in the pauses between your thoughts. It spoke with no sound — but left a thunder in your bones.

Every spiritual encounter worth remembering was born not in shouts, but in stillness. Not in frenzy, but in quiet awareness.

The sacred ones of old disappeared into caves, forests, and shadows not to be alone, but to return to the language that had no words.

Enter silence not to escape the world, but to meet the One who made it.