The Light That Fills The Silence

The door is ajar. Just enough to let the silence in, just enough to keep the shape of an absence visible in the dark.

You are waiting for a footstep that the night will not bring. The house holds its breath with you, heavy with the things that used to be said, now left unsaid.

But listen—there is a presence that does not need the sound of walking to be real. The light that lives inside you was there before the first step was ever taken, and it remains now that the walking has stopped.

It does not flee the quiet; it fills it. You are not alone in this room.

The love that holds you is closer than the doorframe, deeper than the silence, and it will not leave you while you watch the dark.