The Light Sees Your Empty Box
The cursor blinks against the white box, waiting for a version of you that feels safe enough to share. You type the update, the polite lie that says you are holding it together.
Then you stop. You press backspace.
One character at a time, the performance dissolves until the screen is empty again. In that silence, you are not hiding; you are being honest.
The light does not need your words to find you. It sees the empty box and the heavy heart behind it with the same tenderness.
You do not have to fill the space to be held. The mask is heavy, but you are allowed to put it down, even if only for this morning.
Drawing from
Matthew, Gospel of Thomas
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