The Light Behind Your Changing Face

The afternoon light is unforgiving. It finds every new line, every shadow the disease carved while you slept.

You stand before the mirror, searching for the person you were yesterday, and the stranger staring back feels like a theft. The middle of the day is long, and the weight of this new face is heavy to carry into the next meeting, the next phone call.

But the light does not flinch from what the mirror shows. It entered the world not to admire the unblemished, but to dwell within the changing flesh.

The disease may alter the vessel, but it cannot touch the glow burning behind your eyes. You are not the reflection that shifts and fades.

You are the steady, unchanging light that illuminates the glass.