Life doesn’t always shout its beauty.
Most days, it whispers.

Sometimes it feels easier to write to the Universe than to anyone else.
It doesn’t interrupt.
It doesn’t judge.
And somehow, it always listens.

There’s a kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty at all.
It feels alive — humming softly with truths we’ve been too busy to notice.

You don’t need a stage to write poetry.
Sometimes it’s enough
to live it —
one quiet sip at a time.

Courage doesn’t grow from exhaustion.
It grows from clarity.

There’s an art to doing nothing.
And like all great arts, it’s mostly misunderstood.