You Are Already Held By Light

The afternoon sun is bright, but inside, you are rehearsing crimes you never committed just to feel the weight of something real. You speak your guilt to an empty room, waiting for a verdict that never comes, hoping the echo will prove you exist.

But the light does not need your confession to know you are here. It saw you before you spoke a word.

There was a man born blind, and the disciples asked whose sin had caused it—his or his parents'. The light answered: neither.

Your darkness is not a punishment you earned. It is simply a canvas.

You do not have to invent a reason for your pain to be worthy of attention. The light is already looking at you, not because of what you did, but because of who you are.

Stop trying to make yourself heavy enough to be seen. You are already held.