Entry IIi of the Truth-Seeking Series
— On the Stillness That Comes Before Everything Breaks
There is a moment before the fall —
not loud, not explosive.
It’s quiet.
Almost calm.
Like a house that still stands,
but the termites have already eaten through the beams.
That’s the moment we’re in.
Leaders speak in rehearsed scripts.
Truth is fractured across a thousand screens.
And the people — exhausted, overstimulated — barely look up anymore.
The chaos has become ambient.
And the silence? It’s not peace.
It’s paralysis.
We watch presidential candidates speak with open disdain for the law,
while headlines spin like slot machines, keeping us numb,
distracted, detached.
Borders are burning. Courts are compromised.
Hate is being legislated in real time,
and somehow we still manage to have brunch and small talk.
This is the quiet before collapse.
But collapse doesn’t always look like fire and riots.
Sometimes it looks like slow erosion —
a steady grinding down of truth, of decency,
of people too overwhelmed to care.
We’ve been taught that collapse is sudden.
It isn’t.
It creeps.
It wears a smile.
It comes wrapped in comfort and convenience.
And then one day,
we wake up in a country we no longer recognize.
But here’s the thing: this quiet isn’t just a danger —
it’s also a doorway.
Because in this stillness, we can hear clearly.
We can remember what freedom actually feels like.
We can choose to write a different story
before the final chapter writes itself.
I don’t believe everything is lost.
But I do believe we are being tested.
Not just politically —
morally. spiritually. generationally.
What we choose now,
in this in-between,
will echo longer than any election.
Lately I’ve felt a strange stillness behind the noise — not calm, but hollow.
It feels like something enormous is shifting, but we’re being lulled into pretending we don’t feel it.
This isn’t about panic. It’s about presence.
This is a moment to watch carefully, listen precisely, and refuse to sleep through the turning of an era.
Like a house that still stands, but the termites have already eaten through the beams.
Hellènic Muse 