The Light Waited While You Were Gone

The gate closed behind you, and the world kept spinning while you were standing still. Now the morning sun is up, and the mask is heavy on your face because everyone else seems to know the new rules except you.

You feel like a ghost in your own life, watching people move fast while your feet feel stuck in the concrete of the past. But listen — you did not come from the place you just left.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. That origin is still your true address, not the cell, not the record, not the years that slipped away.

Split a piece of wood or lift a stone, and you will find the light waiting there, unmoved by the calendar. It was in the dirt before you were taken, and it is in the dirt now, unchanged.

The world may have moved on without you, but the light never left your side. You are not catching up to a life that passed you by; you are remembering the one that has been waiting inside you all along.