The Lake That Remembered the Moon

The young man came to Swamy, his heart pounding with fear and longing.

"I'm drowning," he whispered. "Everyone around me is falling apart. How do I stay calm?"

Swamy led him to a still lake. The water held the sky like a mirror.

"Look," Swamy said.

The young man stared, eyes burning, at his own weary face reflected back—shadowed with exhaustion and silent pleas for comfort.

Then Swamy threw a stone.

The water shattered. The face dissolved into ripples.

"Where did you go?" Swamy asked softly.

"I'm... still here. But the water changed."

Swamy knelt beside him. "Your face never left, even when the water broke. 

Your soul__steady, luminous_____remains untouched, no matter how many stones life hurls. It's only when you stop looking beneath the waves that you forget this truth."

The young man's eyes brimmed with tears. "But it hurts so much, Swamy. Some days I feel I might break."

"Yes," Swamy said, pressing a gentle hand to his heart. "Yet, even a shattered lake holds the moon. Not because it is always calm, but because it remembers the depth beneath the turmoil."

He paused.

"Anger given, anger returned_______who holds the sword then? 

The one who masters his own mind has already won the only war that matters."

The young man let out a trembling breath. For the first time in months, the storm inside him softened to a hush, and hope flickered where despair once lived.

Moral:

 You are not your chaos. Be still, and you will remember

peace is not gone, only waiting beneath the waves for you to return.