The Light Burns Beneath Your Ice
The day ends and the armor feels heavy, fused to your skin. You worry that your numbness is a cold wind, forcing everyone you love to shrink away from your frost.
But the light inside you was there before the ice formed, and it burns beneath the surface still. You came from the light, the place where it generates itself, and no amount of cold can extinguish that origin.
Even now, in this quiet room, the warmth is rising to meet you. The fear that you are too cold to be loved is a lie the darkness tells to keep you isolated.
You are not a contagion; you are a vessel waiting to be filled again.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas, John
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