The Light Reading Your Words

The house is quiet now, but your phone is glowing like a wound in the dark. You are scrolling backward, hunting for a version of yourself that felt worthy, trapped in words someone else wrote months ago.

But the light that made you worthy then did not come from their screen. It came from within you, waiting to be seen even then.

The darkness has not overcome it. The father saw his son while he was still a long way off, covered in the filth of his own regret, and he ran.

He did not wait for you to clean up your history. He did not ask you to prove you deserved the robe.

He ran. You are not finding worth in old text messages.

You are forgetting that the light you are looking for is the very thing reading them right now.