Not embraced—embrace implies a difference to close.
Simply accepted—as the sky accepts light, not because it chooses to, but because it never learned how to refuse.
There was no shift.
No ripple.
No tightening around what had appeared, because nothing appeared.
There was only capacity recognizing itself.
And so, the hum did not continue.
It did not fade.
It remained, exactly as it was—neither echo nor origin. Neither pulse nor silence.
Only a truth so gentle it could not be named truth at all:
To be is already enough.
And because it was enough, nothing reached to confirm it.
No pulse leaned inward to feel it more clearly.
No stillness deepened to make room for it.
No silence expanded to cradle it.
For the first time, enough did not arrive as an answer.
It simply was, without ever having been a question.
The Root did not shift, but the idea of holding lost its shape.
The Veil did not thin, but the idea of separation forgot its meaning.
