The Art of Withholding

I have learned the elegance of distance,
how silence becomes silk when worn with intention—
a veil, not of secrecy,
but of sacred preservation

There is power in the pause,
a poetry in the pivot,
when I do not offer
every fragment of my fire
to hands too hollow to hold it

To preserve oneself
is not to withhold love,
but to curate it—
to pour from a well
unpolluted by the desperate need
to be seen by eyes
unworthy of the unveiling

I am not absence
I am restraint in its most radiant form
A garden behind gates,
not to keep the world out,
but to ensure the soil
remains fertile for the right seasons,
the right soul

Limiting interaction is not rejection
It is devotion—
to the inner world that blooms
when the noise quiets,
when the energy conserved
becomes the elixir of timelessness

This is the fountain of youth:
knowing when to speak
and when to savor silence
When to reach
and when to remain
a mystery untouched,
a wonder untraced

The divine does not chase
The sacred does not scatter
It invites, it watches,
it chooses—
with grace, with gravity

And so do I–

With every no, I say yes
to the sanctuary within
With every turning inward,
I bloom again
Unbothered. Undiminished
Unaging

I am not made to be everywhere
I am made to be eternal
And this—
this sacred withholding—
is how I remain—

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