“Crimson bleeds to gold,
Anthony
Sun whispers to hushed mountains,
Beauty knows its worth.“
The world is a chorus of demands. Voices clamour, tweets shriek, billboards bellow. I used to mistake grand gestures for grandeur. My own life was a performance, a desperate bid for applause. Loud words, ostentatious acts, a constant yearning for the spotlight. But the hollowness within echoed loudest.
It was in the hush of introspection that I stumbled upon the secret garden of the quiet ones. A solitary sunflower, facing the sun with quiet majesty, a dewdrop clinging to a leaf, refracting rainbows unseen, the rustle of wind through ancient pines, composing concertos for no human audience.
These hidden jewels taught me. Beauty doesn’t beg for notice, it simply “is”. It doesn’t compete, it merely exists in its own fullness. A whisper in the night, a star’s faint ember, a child’s smile unprompted, each radiating a gentle luminosity that asks no payment and seeps into your soul.
Learning from the silent becomes an act of unlearning. Stripping away the layers of noise, the need for validation, the desperate thirst for external approval. It’s about cultivating an inner garden, where quietude nourishes the seeds of authenticity.
It’s letting go of the need to impress, to explain, to justify. It’s trusting that what you are, what you create, in its contented serenity, resonates with those meant to find it. It’s the artist painting unseen, the writer pouring their heart into lines that may never find readers, the musician composing only for their own ears.
In the silence, we discover the depths of our own being. We hear the whispers of our true selves, unadulterated by the need to please. We find a strength that doesn’t need to roar, a wisdom that speaks in soft murmurs, a love that radiates like moonlight, warming without burning.
The world will continue its clamour, but within us, a sanctuary awaits. A space where beauty blooms in the quiet, where the soul whispers its own song, where we learn to be, simply and authentically, enough. And perhaps, in that quietness, we too become like the hidden jewels of the world, radiating a beauty that needs no spotlight, yet illuminates the lives of those who stumble upon it.
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Anthony's Literary Lens 
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