Finding Your Voice

Once,
I thought my quiet
meant nothing.

The truth is -
the world was simply too loud
for what I carried.

So I waited.
I listened.
I learned the edges of silence,
the weight of words
I wasn’t ready to speak.

Then, one day,
the stillness moved -
and I moved with it.

My voice returned
not as thunder,
but as light
spilling slowly
into a dark room.

No shouting.
No proving.
Just becoming -
a tone,
a field,
a steady flame.

It was never lost.
Only forming.

And now,
I offer it gently -
not as instruction,
but as a companion.
A compass.
A way through.

This note lives alongside the work,
a quiet echo of form, presence, and return.

Artist Note

This work speaks in the language of light and patience.

There is a quiet power in claiming space - not to fill it, but to harmonise with it.
Finding your voice is both a confession and a compass.

It began in stillness -
the kind that holds both waiting and becoming.
Each line is a breath,
each pause a choice:
to listen first,
to rise second.
It is for those learning that their softness was never weakness,
and that truth, when ready, does not need to shout.

May it be a reminder:
your voice has weight,
your becoming has rhythm,
and your presence
is enough to shift the air.

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