Galaxies Aligning Sacred Hush
Reshaping Trembling Rush
To lead without leading, to move the tide without a hand, to whisper change into the wind — letting it carry hearts to lands unmapped, unnamed, yet deeply known — a place where thought becomes its own.
Redirect without a pointed finger,
no blame,
no shame,
no rigid stance.
Just presence — pulsing like a beacon — a silent rhythm — sacred dance. The way reshapes beneath your feet as others follow — incomplete until they fuse with something greater — an echo of the infinite creator.
Infused collective, minds alight,
prophets speak without shedding a word.
Their message etched in cosmic ink, not choice, but knowing — not noise.
A limited number, yet vast in reach, witnessing truths no tongue can teach.
It is written
Pulsating between the stars, in the ache of bursting hearts,
in the silence that reforms the galaxies — the norms — the forms we thought were fixed but never were.
Spoken without saying a word — heart emitting newer tones. A frequency bending the path — making the ancient future known.
Galaxies align in hush, reshape in sacred, trembling rush.
Painful bursts of love and fire — the cost of rising ever higher.
It is so.
Not claimed, not forced, not earned.
Just known.
Just felt.
Just turned.
~Ani Po
