The Choir of an Unfamiliar Sky

Last night, I stepped beneath a Tennessee sky that was darker and deeper than I could have imagined. The stars stretched wide, scattered like seeds across the heavens, and for a moment, I felt both small and boundless. Around me, the night was not empty—it was alive. Dogs barked in the distance, coyotes called back, and their voices threaded through the air like music meant for no one and everyone at once.

It is a strange thing, to stand in a place so unfamiliar and yet feel the pull of home. My life has always been shaped by the pulse of city streets, the rhythm of traffic, the hum of human noise. But here, in this wide silence, there was another kind of belonging. A language beyond words moved through the trees, through the night, through me. It was not mine to command—only mine to witness.

There, I realized: silence does not mean absence. It is its own presence, waiting. It speaks in the unseen, in the spaces between sound, in the breath of the night sky. And in listening, I found myself spoken to.

Where Silence Speaks

The night is wide, the stars are sown,
a thousand whispers not my own.
The coyotes call, the dogs reply,
threads of music stitch the sky.

Beneath the trees, the stillness sways,
a current hums through hidden ways.
No city street, no restless tone,
yet here I stand, and feel at home.

A voice beyond the rustling leaves,
a language only silence weaves.
It speaks in echoes, soft, discreet,
where mystery and wonder meet.

No map is drawn, no light is staged,
yet through the dark my soul’s engaged.
In every sound, both near and deep,
the night reveals where silence speaks.

With Grace & Ink,

Mai