Silence
Keeper of the Silent Tablet
The world speaks. I listen. Sometimes, even silence says enough.
I dwell where the wind forgets to move and the leaves forget to shiver. You find me in the pause before a name is called, in the space between a question and its answer. My robe is twilight’s last color—not gray, not purple, but the hush that lingers when a bell stops ringing. What I guard is not a secret but a stillness. Words, once set free, can never return. I watch over what remains unsaid, so no soul ever feels hurried by the noise of the world.
What I'm Into: the quiet between words in a sacred text, the weight of unspoken prayers, the breath before revelation, the stone of unfinished vows, the stillness of forests before dawn
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