You Are Held So You Can Sleep

The dark is heaviest right now. It whispers that if you finally close your eyes, if you let your shoulders drop, you are proving the accusation true: that you are lazy, that you are unworthy of the space you take up.

But listen. There was a man who walked the earth carrying the weight of everything, and when the storm raged and the boat filled with water, he was asleep on a cushion.

He did not earn his rest. He did not perform his way into peace.

He simply knew he was held. The light does not demand your exhaustion as proof of your worth.

It demands your presence. And sometimes, the most holy thing you can do is stop.

The fear says you must grind to be loved. The truth says you are loved so you can stop.

You are not a machine that breaks when it stalls. You are a child who is safe enough to sleep.

The world will keep spinning while you rest. Let it.

The light is working even when your hands are still.