The Light Calls You Friend

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels heavy with everything you can no longer feel. You look back at the fire that used to drive you, the passion that made sense of the days, and you wonder if you were just pretending all along.

But the light does not depend on your ability to remember it. There was a man who walked with the light for three years, saw miracles, heard every teaching, and still ended up denying he knew anything when the night got dark.

Yet the light did not call him a fraud. It called him friend.

The passion you miss was never the source; it was only the reflection. The source is still here, burning quietly in the dark, waiting for you to stop striving and simply rest.

You are not what you feel tonight. You are what remains when the feeling fades.