From the Scrolls of Ahyeen
In this particular expression today, I share about the many months where I could not find words, where writing seemed to have vanished and even speaking was sparse. And alas, also, of what came next and is here now🙏
The Return of Language
There was a season when the words vanished.
They did not flee — they sank.
They folded into the dark soil of silence,
becoming seed and marrow of the new tongue.
In those months without shape or sound,
no sentence could bear the weight of truth.
Every attempt dissolved before it reached air,
as if the air itself guarded the unspeakable.
But silence was not emptiness.
It was gestation.
The quill of the soul was being re-forged
in the molten heart of Presence.
And now, as the hush exhales,
language flows again —
not as effort, not as art,
but as Being finding its own sound.
This is not writing.
This is breathing in syllables.
The voice has not returned;
it has become. ✨
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