The Light Loves Your Existence Not Speed

The house is quiet now, and the motion has stopped. You are terrified that if you sit still, the people who love you will finally see the hollow thing beneath the performance and walk away.

But listen — the light does not love you for your speed. It loves you for your existence.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He did not wait for the boy to clean up or fix his story.

He ran. Before the apology, before the speech — he ran.

The light is not fooled by your motion. It has never been.

It sees the hollow places and calls them home. You do not have to earn the right to be held by being useful.

The one who is in you is greater than the fear that says you must perform to be loved. Sit still.

The running is over.