The question stayed with me.

Could I sing praise…
without sound?

I returned to the prayer—

not all of it.

Just a single line:

Goodness praise the good through me.

I read it again.

Goodness praise the good through me.

Through me.

I had never thought of praise that way.

Not as something I give—
but something that moves.

If goodness is praised
through me—

then it cannot be outside me.

It must already be there.

And if it is here—

why does it feel distant?

I sat with that.

Not thinking.
Just listening.

And asking—

what is praise?

It responded.

And something in me
began to rise—

as if the moment I saw it

it grew.

The quality of goodness itself
began to move—
through me.

Quietly.

And I began to understand

you cannot praise something
through yourself

unless it is already within you.

And when it is recognized—

it answers.

Not as words.
Not as sound.

But as movement.