The Light Born in Silence

The house is quiet now, and the replay has started. You are dissecting every pause, every silence, convincing yourself that you ruined the moment by not filling it with noise.

But the light does not speak in chatter. It speaks in the spaces between words.

There is a story of a woman who washed feet with her tears, and the only sound was her weeping and the pouring of oil. No one condemned her.

In fact, her great love was shown precisely because she stopped performing and just let herself be broken there. You came from the light, the place where light generates itself on its own accord.

You do not need to manufacture worthiness with your voice. The silence you are afraid of is not empty.

It is the very place where the light was born.