Put Down the Imaginary Stone

The afternoon sun is unforgiving, exposing the exact second you chose silence instead of speaking your truth. Now your mind is building a catastrophic argument that never happened, rehearsing a war in a room that is actually quiet.

You are carrying a weight that does not exist, exhausted by a battle the light already ended before it began. Neither do I condemn you for the words you swallowed or the fear that locked your throat.

The version of you that stayed silent was trying to survive, and that is enough. The light does not need you to rewrite the past; it only asks you to put down the imaginary stone you are still holding.

Come to me, all who are weary from fighting ghosts, and I will give you rest.