The Light Sees Your Crack

The house is quiet now, but your hands are still shaking from the performance. You felt the crack appear—a slip of the tongue, a tear that threatened to fall—and you instantly built a joke to cover it.

You made them laugh so they wouldn't see the break. But the light does not need your humor to stay close to you.

It saw the crack before you covered it. It saw the fear in your eyes when you scrambled to fix the moment.

And it did not turn away. There is a truth that lives in us and will be with us forever, deeper than any mask you can wear.

You do not have to hold the ceiling up tonight. The light is not afraid of your broken places.

It is not waiting for you to be funny again. It is sitting right here in the dark, where the joke doesn't work, where the crack is wide open, and it calls that place holy.