You Are The Hidden Fire They Need

The house is quiet now, and the thought has arrived: if you were gone, everyone would breathe easier. That you are the weight.

The problem. The thing they wish would disappear.

But listen — the light inside you does not calculate your worth by how much space you take up. It simply is.

You do not have to earn your place in the room by being useful or silent or small. There was a woman who washed feet with her tears, convinced she was too broken to stay, and the voice she feared most said only: 'Your great love has shown.' Not your perfection.

Your love. The light does not need you to be less of a burden.

It needs you to be present. You are not the obstacle in their story.

You are the hidden fire they do not yet know they need.