The Cradle That Never Sleeps

Beneath our feet, something historical listens. It does not talk in language or designs, in the low hum of tectonic dishes, in the slow drift of continents, in how roots explore the night without eyes. We walk across its skin, never knowing how deep its memory runs. Every wheat of mud has broken from the mountain. Every decline of water was once section of a hurricane no one remembers. Yet the World recalls everything — it just does not speak it aloud.

Their voice is hidden alone — the kind of silence that echoes. You can experience it when the breeze dies and the trees stay totally still. You can hear it in the stillness following Planet, when actually chickens seem to pause. This silence isn't empty. It is full of believed, whole of age, saturated in presence. The Earth isn't calm since it's asleep. It is calm because it's listening — to us, to the sky, to itself.

We are loud. We fill the air with engines, sirens, sounds, audio, machines. But nothing of the sound sinks into the ground. The Planet concentrates perhaps not with ears but with patience. It waits for what employs our noise — what remains when our structures drop, when our signs disappear, when the satellites burn out in the upper sky. And when that point comes, it it's still here — still turning, still blooming in places unmarked, still whispering in manners only the wind and the roots can hear.

We think of Planet as stable, as unmoving, as anything we stay on. But it is a lot more than that. It is a human anatomy — alive, shifting, breathing over time also slow for people to see. It doesn't shout, it doesn't beg. It endures. And for the reason that quiet stamina lies an electrical far more than fire or flooding: the ability of anything that's nothing to prove. Anything that has already survived the delivery of the moon, the demise of woods, the stop after meteors.

This is not only land. It's not only stone and water. It is a keeper. A cradle. A memory that doesn't forget. Anywhere deep below, beneath the stress and stone, it however murmurs the story of how it all began.

Nonetheless it won't ever reveal in words.

We should learn how to hear in silence.