They say the peacock was once asked why it did not sing loudly like other birds.
Why it walked slowly, carrying its colors like secrets rather than trophies.
The peacock only smiled.
It knew — true beauty does not need to chase eyes.
True grace does not seek applause.
Each feather was a story.
Not of conquest, but of quiet becoming.
Not of pride, but of acceptance.
In a world that often shouts to be seen,
the peacock chose stillness.
In a garden filled with noise,
it chose presence.
The elders say when you pass by a peacock resting softly among the flowers,
you do not just see colors —
you see patience.
You see self-knowing.
You see a soul content to simply be.
Because the peacock understands:
Elegance does not need to speak.
It blooms naturally,
in those who are true to themselves,
even when no one is watching.
