The decision of silence.

"Not all ruins are there to be rebuilt - some are there to teach you to let go."

There was once a man who stood in front of ruins many times.

Not only walls collapsed there, but also hopes, plans, human destinies.

And every time he was asked:

- Will you repair it? Will you save it? Will you rebuild it?

And he always paid attention to the same thing: not whether it was possible... but whether it was necessary.

One day he stopped in front of an old house.

The roof was still standing, the walls were still standing, but inside, everything that was valuable had long been taken away.

A cold wind blew in the yard, and the gate creaked, as if asking for something.

The man entered. He looked around.

He saw what could be made of it.

He also saw the future.

And he also saw the wounds that others had left on him.

Then he didn't start building.

He didn't speak out loud.

He just closed the gate behind him.

Not because he didn't know.

Not because he didn't have a heart.

But because he recognized:

There are things that shouldn't be saved, but let go so that the world can learn from them.

True wisdom is not always action.

Sometimes the greatest act is when a person doesn't step into a destiny that isn't theirs.

And in the silence, an inner sentence is born:

"Not all ruins are in front of me to rebuild.

Some are there to remind me: boundaries are also part of love."

Silence is sometimes wiser than a hammer.