Held When Your Hands Let Go

The house is quiet now, and the peace you found today feels fragile, like glass held in a shaking hand. You are already bracing for the moment you will drop it, convinced that your own nature will eventually betray this stillness.

But the light that lives inside you does not depend on your grip to stay lit. There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off, and he ran before the apology was even finished.

He did not wait to see if the son would stay; he celebrated the return while the dust was still settling. Your fear of future failure is not a prophecy; it is just the echo of old shadows trying to convince you that you are still in the dark.

The light has already overcome the darkness, and it holds you even when your own hands let go. You are not the guardian of the peace; you are the one being held by it.