He Sees The Backspace

The cursor blinks in the dark, waiting for a truth you are too afraid to speak. You type the weight of it, then delete it, word by word, until the screen is clean again.

The silence feels safer than the burden of being known. But look closer at the empty space where your words just were.

There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world. If it does not shine, it is dark.

The darkness is not your pain; the darkness is the hiding of it. You are not protecting anyone by staying silent.

You are only keeping the light under a bowl, pretending the room is still night. The One who sits with you in this hour does not need your polished speech.

He sees the backspace. He sees the tremor in your hands.

And He is not afraid of what you almost said.