The Light That Eats With You

Night is gathering now, and with it comes the old fear that someone is saying your name to laugh at what you hid. You flinch when the laughter rises, convinced they are talking about the thing you buried.

But listen — the light does not gossip about your failures. It stands at the door of your heart and knocks, not to expose you, but to eat with you.

There is a name written on a white stone that no one else knows, a secret identity the light holds safe from every rumor. The hidden thing you fear will be disclosed, yes — but not to shame you.

It will be brought out into the open so it can finally stop poisoning you in the dark. What was concealed is meant to be known, and in the knowing, you are not destroyed.

You are found.