You Are the Silence Holding It

The house is quiet now, but your mind is loud with a sentence you spoke hours ago. It loops in the dark, sounding fake, sounding wrong, making your stomach turn.

You are judging a ghost of yourself with a severity the light would never touch. There is a truth living inside you that existed before that word was spoken and remains after it fades.

The light does not need you to edit your past or perfect your performance. It simply stays.

Split a piece of wood; the light is there. Lift up a stone; the light is there.

Even in the shame of a clumsy moment, the light is underneath it, holding you. You are not your worst sentence.

You are the silence that holds it.