The Light Does Not Glance Away

The clock on the wall moves, but you are stuck in the moment you whispered, 'I'm not okay,' and watched their eyes slide past you to check the time. In the long middle of the day, this silence feels like a verdict.

Like you are too heavy to hold. But the light does not glance away.

It does not calculate the cost of staying. There is a presence that sees the mask you wear for the afternoon and loves the face beneath it more than the performance.

You are not a burden to be managed. You are a drop from the light, sent here to illuminate this very room, even when you feel invisible.

The eyes that checked the time were human. The eyes that see you fully are divine.

And they are not looking away.