The Light Lives in the Ache

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels heavy because you cannot remember the last time laughter came without you forcing it. You are still here, watching the dark, wondering if the joy has left you for good.

But listen — the light does not depend on your ability to summon it. It was there before the silence, and it is here in the ache.

There is a peace waiting for you that is not like the world's peace, a stillness that does not require you to perform happiness to be held. The darkness has not overcome it.

You do not need to manufacture the light to be worthy of it. You are already the place where it lives.

The laugh will return, but even if it doesn't tonight, the light remains.