Your Emptiness Is An Altar

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels heavy enough to crush you. You lie here wondering if this empty room is a verdict, if the child you do not hold is evidence that you are being punished.

But the light does not speak in withholding. There was a man who waited his whole life for a promise, standing in the temple with his arms open, and he did not die until he held the salvation of the world in his hands.

The waiting was not a rejection. It was the preparation for a joy that could only be carried by someone who had learned to wait.

Your emptiness is not a cage. It is an altar.

And the light is not keeping a child from you to hurt you. It is guarding a promise that belongs to you, waiting for the exact moment when your heart can hold it without breaking.