You Are Not A Performance To Perfect

It is late, and the mirror is the only thing holding your gaze. You are rehearsing a casual word so your voice does not crack when you face the person on the other side of that wall.

You practice being fine. You practice being whole.

But the light does not need your rehearsal. It came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord — and that is where you came from too.

You are not a performance you have to perfect before dawn. You are a drop from that same source, sent here not to act, but to illuminate.

The terror of the greeting fades when you remember: the voice that speaks through you was already whole before you ever learned to hide it. Stop practicing for a role you were never cast in.