The Light Comes In To Eat With You

The day is ending, and the armor you wore to keep your needs hidden feels heavy now. You are afraid that if you let it drop, if you show how much you actually require, everyone will walk away.

But listen — there is a love that does not run when the need is great. The light came into your midst not to fix you, but to restore you to your root.

And your root is not your self-sufficiency. Your root is the place where you are held.

You came from the light, sent here not to pretend you are full, but to admit you are thirsty. The one who knows your deepest hunger does not turn away from it.

He stays. Open the door.

The light is not coming in to lecture you on your dependency. It is coming in to eat with you.