The Light Did Not Ask For Your Résumé

The clock says three. The house is silent.

And in this quiet, your mind replays the moments you did nothing when you should have acted. The hesitation.

The silence. The turning away.

You feel that those empty hands have disqualified you from ever holding anything sacred again. But listen.

The night is deepest right before the dawn. There was a man who denied knowing the light three times.

He ran. He hid.

He did nothing. And yet, on a beach, the light did not ask for his résumé.

It asked if he loved. The past is not a prison door that locks from the inside.

The one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world. Greater than your regret.

Greater than your inaction. You are not your missed chances.

You are the place where the light now shines. The trust was never in your perfection.

It was in the light that never left.