Root of Celestial Silence

Sometimes we forget how large we are.

Not large in ego.

Large in origin.

This poem came from a simple feeling — that there is something inside us that refuses to shrink, no matter how small the world tries to make us.

“They cast their narrow furrows…”

We all feel that pressure at times. To fit. To fold. To quiet down.

But somewhere deeper than fear, deeper than circumstance, something older hums.

A root.

A silence.

Not empty — but full.

The poem does not promise that life will be gentle. It does not deny that empires rust or that truth sometimes whispers. But it reminds us that there is a seam of light buried in the bone.

And sometimes all it takes is a single breath to remember it.

If this poem does anything, I hope it makes you stand a little straighter.

Not louder.

Just steadier.

Read the full poem and analysis tomorrow 28th: https://alkonda.com/2026/02/28/root-of-celestial-silence/

© Al Konda · The Poetry Elite