The Light Sees Your Real Hunger
The afternoon sun is harsh, and in its light, you are convinced your attempt at connection was just another performance. You replay the words, the smile, the gesture, certain you fooled everyone but yourself.
But the light does not care about the polish; it only cares about the origin. You came from the light, and that is where your attempt began — before the mask slipped on.
Split a piece of wood, lift a stone, and the light is there, even in the awkwardness you are trying to hide. The performance was the surface, but the longing underneath was real.
That longing is the only thing that matters. You did not fool the light; it saw the hunger behind the act.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas, John
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