The Light Remains When Words Are Gone
The cursor blinks in the empty space where your words used to be. You spent an hour building a bridge, then deleted it because it didn't sound like you.
Now you sit in the quiet wreckage of your own standards, feeling like an impostor in the morning light. The mask feels heavier today because you tried to take it off and failed.
But listen — the light does not need your perfect paragraph to find you. It was already there in the frustration, in the backspace, in the silence you are ashamed of.
You are not the performance you failed to deliver. You are the light that remains when the words are gone.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas, Matthew
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