The Light Runs While You Stand Still

The house is quiet now, and the numbness feels heavier than the noise ever did. You have walked through the motions for so long that your feet remember the path even when your heart has forgotten the reason.

It feels like walking through a room where the lamps have burned out, one by one, until you are just moving by memory. But listen — the darkness has not overcome the light that lives inside you.

It cannot extinguish what it cannot touch. There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, and before the apology, before the speech, he ran.

He did not wait for the feeling to return. He did not wait for the numbness to lift.

He ran while the son was still empty, still rehearsing words he didn't believe. The light runs to you in this exact silence.

It meets you in the going-through-the-motions. It does not demand that you feel something first.

It simply arrives. You are not required to ignite yourself.

You are only required to be here, in the dark, while the light finds you.