The Light Waits Inside Your Fortress

The afternoon is long, and the memory of that betrayal sits heavy in the middle of your day. You offered something tender, and it was turned into a weapon against you.

Now the heart builds walls, not because it wants to, but because it is trying to survive. The light does not ask you to lower those walls today.

It does not demand that you trust again before you are ready. It simply stands inside the fortress with you, waiting.

There is a presence that knows the difference between recklessness and wisdom, and it will not let you be harmed again. Trust is not a door you must force open; it is a quiet knowing that grows when the soil is safe.

The light within you is the one thing they could not touch, and it remains whole.