Holding the Light in the Dark
The hand reaches out before the mind wakes up. It searches for the warmth that used to be there, finds only the cold sheet, and the heart stops again.
This is the deepest hour, where the muscle memory of love feels like a fresh wound. You are not reaching into nothingness.
The love that lived in that touch did not vanish when the breathing stopped. It was never just in the shoulder you touched—it was in the light that made the touch possible.
That light is still here, filling the space where the absence feels heaviest. You are not alone in the dark; you are holding the very thing you are looking for.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas, Luke
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