The Light Stands When You Fall

The house is quiet now, but the moment is loud. You see their face falling in slow motion, and you know—with a sinking certainty—that you are the gravity pulling it down.

The replay spins endlessly, a cruel film you cannot stop. But listen.

There is a light inside you that saw the wound before you spoke the word. It was there before the mistake, and it remains now, untouched by the regret.

Thomas said there is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world. If that light is still burning inside you after this, then the darkness of your error has not overcome it.

You are not defined by the moment you broke something. You are defined by the light that refuses to leave the room.

The face fell. But the light stands.