In the hush between heartbeats,
it comes—
a voice not loud, but deeply known,
just that calm, familiar tone
that sounds like my mother's advice
and the tiny wisdom I carry inside.
It speaks when silence fills the room,
when fear hangs heavy in the air,
its tone as soft as evening rain,
yet certain as a whispered prayer.
It says, "You know what to do."
Just like that—simple,
the way a parent would say it,
with love but no pity.
"You've come this far. Keep going."
It sounds like home, like lessons kept,
like late-night talks and quiet grace,
like, "Trust yourself, even when lost,"
and every scar you now embrace.
I hear it most when change is near—
when I broke,
when love is in front of me,
it dared me to open wide,
to speak, to stay, to hope, to love.
and I don't know if I am ready to hold it,
or if I should actually run.
There was a time I had to choose—
in that deep moment, choice was breath,
to stay the same, or grow,
to shut down, or open up.
And that voice? It didn't let me hide.
It stood by me like a friend.
And I moved forward—with fear,
but with faith too.
So when the world is loud and rough,
I listen in, I know the tone:
because my strongest voice
doesn't come from outside—
it lives inside me.
And it never leads me wrong.
THIS IS MY RESPONSE TO THIS WEEK'S @BLOCKCHAINPOET PROMPT
This is actually my first time here 
THANKS A LOT FOR READING ME
