Poem: Trusting Your Intuition

There’s a whisper beneath the noise,
soft as breath on water—
it doesn’t shout or reason,
it simply knows.

You’ll hear it in the pause
before you speak,
in the pull to turn left
when logic says right,
in the sudden warmth
of a yes that needs no proof.

It’s the ancient compass
woven in your ribs,
older than fear,
older than thought.

Trust it—
the way roots trust darkness,
the way the moon trusts the tide.

Let it guide you
through the tangle of maybe,
until your steps feel
like remembering.

And when the world
demands an answer—
let silence smile first,
for your intuition
already has one.