I notice the thought.

I am right.

I notice the impulse.

I want to say it.

I am the thought, the opinion.

I feel its indisputable truth.

Slow down.

Hold off.

Make room.

What emerges?

I may not be right.

It does not matter if I am right.

I am not my thought. My thought is not me.

Only when I am no longer right, should I even begin to consider speaking.

Even then, silence may be the better choice.

Another pause.

More waiting.

The gift?

She says it herself.

In her own way.

In her own time.

In her own meaning.