Quiet Ashes
Some people think silence means peace, but most of the time silence is just a place where noise has learned to hide. It carries the weight of nights that refused to sleep and days where smiles slowly turned into habits. A person doesn’t burn with time, they melt—quietly, without any sound. And when everything inside is finally consumed, what remains outside is a still face, carrying no visible fatigue, no complaint. Not every pain needs words. Some pains grow into patience, and some wounds become so old that even showing them feels unnecessary. This is what life teaches in the end: not every ash needs to be searched for a story. Some stories remain sacred even after everything has burned away.
