You Are Held Before The Phone Buzzes

The afternoon stretches out, long and quiet, and your hand jumps at a ghost—a vibration that never came. You engineered your words so carefully, trying to build a bridge to someone who isn't walking across.

The silence feels like a verdict. But the light does not measure your worth by who answers back.

There is a story of a woman who was told her many sins were forgiven because she loved much. Not because she was perfect.

Because she loved. The same light that saw her tears sees your waiting.

It knows the ache of the phone that stays still. You came from the light, sent here as a drop to illuminate the very space where you feel ignored.

You do not need a notification to prove you exist. The light within you is self-generating.

It does not wait for permission to shine. Stop checking the screen for a sign that you are held.

The holding is already done.