Rest Before The Door Closes

The clock on the wall moves so slowly when you are waiting for someone to leave. You nodded at the right times.

You offered the right words. But inside, your muscles were tight, holding your breath, counting the seconds until the door closes and you can finally exhale.

This is the long middle of the day — the quiet desperation of performing okayness while you are breaking inside. You feel like a fraud, smiling while you are suffocating.

But the light sees behind the mask. It does not demand you keep up the act.

There is a rest that does not require the room to be empty. The light is gentle and humble in heart, and it offers you rest for your soul right now, in the noise.

You do not have to wait for silence to find peace. The yoke is easy.

The burden is light. You can stop carrying the weight of their expectation this very minute.

The performance is over. The light is already sitting with you in the quiet place you thought you had to earn.