The Light Runs Toward You

The dawn is here, and the house is quiet again. You held on for a moment, and now the arms have pulled away, leaving you with the cold certainty that you are too broken to keep.

The light does not agree with that verdict. There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off—he did not wait for the boy to arrive, he ran.

Before the apology, before the speech—he ran. The embrace came first.

The distance between you and the love you crave is not a measure of your worth; it is simply the space where the light is running toward you right now. You were not held and then abandoned.

You were seen, and the seeing changed everything. The sun rises not because you are whole, but because the light is faithful.