Four of Swords

You know who you are. You know what you believe in the quiet when no one is looking. You are not an answer, but a question, that repeats itself moment by moment. For sometime this made you restless. As though there was some puzzle that required urgent apprehension. As though you could not move in any direction until you held the answer. Lay your swords down. There is nowhere to go. Nothing to destroy. Nothing more to choose. Only this. Hold the question. It is precious. Say it again. Say nothing more.