The Light That Waits in Silence

The afternoon stretches out, a long, flat middle where the noise of the morning has faded and the evening feels impossibly far away. You realize no one is coming to save you from this silence, so your thumb finds the glass, scrolling, scrolling, desperate to numb the quiet before it gets too loud.

But the light does not wait for a rescue party to arrive. It is already here, sitting in the chair beside you, unbothered by the lack of movement.

You are not abandoned in this stillness; you are being held in the center of it. The kingdom grows while you sleep, while you work, while you stare at the wall.

All by itself. The silence is not an empty room waiting to be filled; it is the space where the light finally stops shouting and starts shining.