Pilgrimage of the Inner Light
Hushed between two heartbeats
Down the broken road, against the sands of Time, we wandered — barefoot, bewildered, becoming — each step a question, each silence a hymn. The wind carried whispers of forgotten names — stars blinked like ancient eyes remembering.
We’ve traveled inner lights past the shadows of doubts — fear wore the mask of wisdom — and longing danced with loss beneath moonless skies. Yet even in the dark, something shimmered — a pulse, a promise, a breath that refused to vanish.
Fragments of us scattered like petals in stormlight — unwavering the soul — does not mourn its scattering. It gathers — not with hands, but with presence — each shard a mirror, each wound a doorway.
Into the inner world of knowing we arrived — not as conquerors, but as pilgrims of grace. Here, the silence speaks in colors, and the broken road becomes a river of gold.
We sit now in the hush between heartbeats — where time folds inward and the self dissolves.
No map
no name
no need
— only the joy of being, and the knowing that we were never lost.
~Ani Po
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