The Dawn She Cannot Yet Perceive

The hour is deep, and the mask feels heaviest now. You force the smile while her hand touches your face, calling you by the name she gave you, knowing the person she sees no longer exists.

But listen — there is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world. Even here.

Even now. In the silence between her voice and your silence, the true self waits.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. That origin cannot be erased by what you have become or what you have lost.

The name she speaks is a memory, but the light she cannot see is your reality. It was there before the breaking, and it remains after.

You are not the ghost she mourns. You are the dawn she cannot yet perceive.