THE LOUD SILENCE

You spend your days and the long, sleepless nights asking questions into the dark.
You don’t know anymore whether you’re speaking to yourself, to the silence, or to God. 
So you wait. Quietly. Patiently. Desperately. 
But the only answer that returns to you is the sound of crickets, 
a small reminder that the world keeps moving even when you feel frozen.
And still, you need answers. 
You need direction. 
Because you can already see the end of the road a dead end so final it swallows the idea of light. 
No glow. No tunnel. No promise.
For a moment you wonder if your mind is betraying you, 
if this is just another trick of exhaustion and fear. 
But no it’s not. 
It’s real. 
The dead end is real. 
And the past is gone, sealed behind you like a door that refuses to reopen.
So you stand there, blind in the darkness, 
and you raise your voice louder than you ever have.
“Is this what you wanted for me, God!”
Your words hit the walls and fall back at your feet. 
You wait. 
You listen. 
You hope for even the smallest tremor of a reply.
But the silence stays. 
Heavy. Unmoving. 
A silence that forces you to face the truth you’ve been avoiding: 
sometimes the quiet is the answer.