Let Your Hands Drop Now

The afternoon is long, and you are tired of holding up the sky for everyone else. You keep fixing, keep smoothing the edges, because you are afraid that if you stop, they will see the cracks in your own foundation.

But the light does not require you to be unbroken to be useful. There was a moment when the light itself fell on its face in the dirt and asked for the cup to pass, yet it remained the light.

Your exhaustion is not a failure of faith — it is an invitation to stop performing. The truth is already known, and it is loved anyway.

You do not have to earn your place by carrying the weight of the world. Let your hands drop.

The light shines just as brightly through the broken places as it does through the strong ones. You are not a machine meant to fix; you are a vessel meant to be filled.