You Are the Room Where Light Lives
The house is quiet enough now that your own laugh sounds like a stranger sitting in your throat. It feels foreign.
Borrowed. Like a sound you made once and forgot how to own.
You touch your chest, expecting to find someone else inside the skin. But the silence is not empty.
The light has never left, even when the voice feels stolen. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world.
Even when that light feels dim, even when the laugh feels like a trick. You are not the stranger.
You are the room where the light lives. The sound will return to you, softer this time, because it no longer has to prove it belongs.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas, Gospel of Thomas
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