The Light Sees You Without The Mask

The engine is off now, and the silence of the car feels heavier than the applause you just received. You sit there in the fading dark, convinced you tricked them all into thinking you belonged.

But the morning light does not care about your performance; it only cares that you are here. There was a man born blind, and the world assumed his darkness was a punishment for sin, a verdict on his worth.

The light looked at him and saw only a canvas for something new. You are not defined by the mask you wore yesterday, nor by the fear that you are an impostor.

The sun is rising on a day where you do not have to prove your place. Go home to your own people and tell them what the light has done for you.

The fraud is the story you tell yourself; the truth is that you are already known.