The Light Does Not Audit Your Heart

The house is quiet now, and the tears you cried earlier feel suspicious in the dark. You wonder if they were just a performance, a way to manipulate the light into fixing what is broken.

But there was a woman who wept at the feet of the light, wiping them with her hair, and he did not analyze her motives. He did not ask if her sorrow was pure enough to deserve attention.

He simply said: your sins are forgiven. Go in peace.

The light does not audit your heart to see if your grief is genuine. It meets you in the wetness of your face.

It does not care if you are trying to get something. It only cares that you are there.

The darkness may tell you your tears are a tactic. The light knows they are simply the sound of you waking up.