Art of letting go

the silence—

The one that echoes every word,

not a void, but a clearing,

like a forest after rain

where the sun finally hits the roots.

holding your breath,

a breath you didn’t know you were holding,

exhale

like wind slowly slipping through the cracks of a window.

There is an art in letting go,

not something that snaps,

but the slow understanding

of every dream you wove

around a future that was never yours.

You feel everything.

the good, the bad,

the suppressed, the exaggerated.

What is buried beneath the smiles,

of standing naked in your grief,

and choosing not to flinch.

An art of letting go

not just of people

but of versions of you,

of things that are limiting.

beginning to see beauty

not in what left,

but what is found and remains.

You will see

the world keeps spinning

painting new skies,

where the cracks are thinning.

Letting go

isn't forgetting

just remembering without breaking,

it is letting.

There is wisdom

in the way a leaf from a tree falls —

feeling the gentle pull of change.

not fighting, not breaking,

just becoming.

from below,

it is beautiful,

once it let go.

go

not away,

not backward or forward,

just moving.

through a life that is lived every day

not once.

a breath that isn’t planned

or rehearsed.

that is what it becomes.

not just the art,

not even the letting,

just

go.