The Void

Even from darkness, light remembers the way home.

Some words come out raw in the middle of the night, born from our darker days when silence just feels too heavy to hold alone. This piece is one of them. Writing it reminded me that even in our most fragile moments, there is a lake within us — a place of remembering, of release, of renewal.

You’re standing in the void again.
Darkness surrounds you, and your own thoughts turn against you.
You castigate, compare, and pity.
Blame, curse, and bemoan.
You listen to the malicious whispers that haunt the stillness before dawn.

Inside, something screams — a maelstrom of desperation.
Tears offer no solace, yet you weep anyway, again and again, seeking release.
How you long for tranquility. For joy.
Your heart sighs out more tears, more curses at the heavens.
Still, the storm within rages, keeping peace far away.

And then — a soft inner voice, firm but kind, rises from the quietest corner of your being.
Child, go within.
Sit by the lake of remembering.
Let its vast, blue calm steady your heart. Breathe in its serenity.
Listen. Seek to understand.

The lake whispers, its voice as ancient as the sands of time, deeper than the deepest sea:
The lessons you were given by your parents were born of their own pain.
The wounds they passed on took root in you, yes — but you were never meant to carry them forever.
You are strong enough, wise enough, now to pull them from the garden of your soul.

You hear it then — the sound of tearing roots.
A cracking open of hardened soil, revealing what had once clung and gnawed at your softness.
It gapes wide now, raw and glistening — but it breathes.

Not to worry, child, the voice murmurs.
You did well. You were brave.
Now the real work begins.
Let discipline, love, and learning be your guides as you plant new flowers in your garden.

Somewhere in the distance — among shimmering waters and colours beyond imagining —
a portal opens.
And you understand at last:
even from darkness, light remembers the way home.

Thank you to the sweet @helenasolith for the invigorating, eye- opening conversation we had regarding self-development and self-remembering. You inspired a huge part of this rant/poem/reflection. I am grateful for your graceful, radiant, kind presence. 💖💖💖

Thank you for reading…✨

If this little poem brought you a tiny moment of stillness or reflection, I’m glad.
I believe silence is a kind of grace, and that stories and poems, too, can offer us rest.

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You make this quiet corner of the internet feel like home.

With ink and light and, maybe an essence of vanilla,

Lia