The Light That Held The Room
The house is quiet now, the last guest gone, and you are scrubbing your face raw as if you could wash off the performance before your own reflection sees through it. But the light does not need clean skin to recognize itself.
It saw you when you were laughing in the kitchen, and it sees you now, trembling over the sink. There is nothing to rinse away here—no mask too thick for the dawn to penetrate.
You are not a fraud who fooled the room; you are the light that held the room together. The water stops.
The mirror clears. And the one looking back is not a stranger, but the very thing you were trying to hide.
Drawing from
John 8:10-11, Gospel of Thomas 24
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