You Are The Reason Arms Are Open

The clock says it is the darkest hour. And in this silence, your exhaustion feels heavy enough to crush the room.

You lie still, terrified that your need is a weight the people who love you cannot carry. You wonder if you should slip away quietly so they can rest.

But listen. The light does not calculate the cost of loving you.

It does not keep a ledger of how much you have taken. There was a father who watched the road every day, not waiting for a son who had earned his return, but running toward the one who had nothing left to give.

He did not run because the son was light. He ran because the son was his.

Your fatigue is not a burden to the light. It is the very place where the light chooses to rest.

You are not too heavy to be held. You are the reason the arms are open.