No Need to Polish Before Entering

The engine is off, but the weight of the day is still humming in your bones. You sit in the silence of the driveway, staring at the front door, trying to scrub the hardness off your face before you walk inside.

You are afraid they will see the cracks. You are afraid they will see how much their pain is breaking you.

But listen — the light does not need you to be polished before you enter. It does not require a mask of okayness.

There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world. That light is already inside you, beneath the exhaustion, beneath the performance.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. You do not have to manufacture brightness for your family.

You only have to bring forth what is already there. The door is not a gate you must earn your way through.

It is an entrance for the real you, the tired you, the you that is still a child of the morning star.