The Light Runs Toward The Ghost

The day ends, and for a second, you catch your reflection in a dark store window—a ghost who forgot how to haunt, moving through the world without weight or witness. You are exhausted from carrying a face that does not match the heart beating underneath it.

But listen—the light does not require you to be solid to see you. It does not need you to perform substance before it will stay.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, covered in the dust of a life gone wrong. He did not wait for the boy to clean up.

He ran. Before the apology, before the speech—he ran.

That same love is not waiting for you to become real again. It is already moving toward the ghost.

You do not have to earn your visibility. The light sees you even when you feel invisible.

Tonight, you are not a spirit fading into the dark. You are the beloved coming home.