The Light Lives Inside You

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels heavy enough to crush you. You reach back for the sound of their laughter, but your memory feels like a hand trying to hold water — it slips through before you can grip it.

Panic rises in your throat, the fear that you are losing them twice: first to distance, then to your own failing mind. But listen — the light does not live in your memory.

It lives in you. Thomas said the kingdom is inside you, not stored in the past or waiting in the future.

You are not a vault trying to preserve a sound before it fades. You are the place where the light that made that laughter possible still burns.

The sound may change. The moment may pass.

But the love that created it is not gone; it has only moved deeper, into the part of you that cannot forget because it is eternal. You are not losing them.

You are carrying them in the only place they can never be lost.