You Are the Light Behind the Glass

The house is quiet now, and the glass has turned into a mirror. You catch your own reflection in the dark window and freeze — the eyes staring back feel like a stranger's.

Hollow. Unrecognizable.

As if the person who woke up this morning is not the one looking out now. But the darkness outside is not the truth of what is inside.

The light was there before the glass went black, and it remains there now, untouched by the night. Split a piece of wood, and the light is there.

Lift up the stone, and you will find it there — even in the face you do not recognize. You are not the shadow on the pane.

You are the light that makes the shadow visible. The stranger in the glass is just you, waiting to remember who you are.