The Door Was Never Locked

The house is quiet now, but your anger is still shouting inside your chest. You are terrified that the things you said, the heat you carried, have finally severed the cord—that you have shouted yourself out of the light's reach.

But listen: the light does not break when you rage. It does not withdraw when you lose control.

What you did in the dark has not undone what you are in your root. If your own heart condemns you for the explosion, remember this: the light is greater than your heart, and it knows the whole story—including the pain that sparked the fire.

You have not been cast out. You are simply waiting for the smoke to clear so you can see that the door was never locked from the outside.

The anger was a storm, not a severing.