The Light Knows Your Name

The house is so quiet that your own voice sounds like a stranger's when you say their name. It is a foreign sound in a room that should feel like home.

You are speaking into the dark and hearing an echo that does not belong to you. That disconnect is the deepest part of the night.

But listen — the silence is not empty. The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world, and it did not wait for you to sound like yourself first.

It came while you were still losing your voice. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Even when your own name feels like a word you have never spoken, the light knows how to say it. You are not the stranger here.

The panic is. The voice that trembles is still the vessel of the one who called you by name before you could speak at all.