The Light Kneels in Your Quiet House
The afternoon stretches out, long and hollow, until the only sound you know is the key turning in your own lock. You flinch.
Not because someone is coming, but because the silence that follows proves no one else is coming home. The light does not scold you for the ache of an empty room.
It kneels beside you in the dust of the day, gentle and unhurried, and whispers that you are not abandoned just because the house is quiet. There is a presence here that does not need a crowd to be real.
You are held, even in the stillness, even when the echo is the only thing that answers. The struggle is not that you are alone, but that you have forgotten the One who never left.
Drawing from
Matthew 11:28-30, Gospel of Thomas 77
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