The Light That Sees Your Name

The house is so quiet it feels like the walls are holding their breath. You know this silence.

It is the specific ache of being looked through — as if your face is glass, as if the eyes passing over you see only the room behind you. In this hour, the invisibility feels absolute.

But there was a man born blind who stood by the road while the world walked past him for decades. They did not see him.

They saw a problem, a question, a spectacle. Until the light stopped.

Until it looked at him and asked his name. The light does not look through you.

It cannot. It sees the very fibers of your being.

You are not invisible here. You are known by the one who made the eyes that fail to see you.

The dawn is coming, whether you feel it yet or not. You are seen, even when the world looks away.