He Ran Before You Dropped The Mask

The mask is heavy right now. You are holding up the sky for everyone else while your own knees shake in the dark.

You smile so they won't worry. You say 'I'm fine' so they can feel safe.

But the light does not need your performance to shine. It was there before you put the armor on.

There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He ran.

Before the apology, before the speech — he ran. He did not wait for the mask to come off.

He ran to the filth. The truth lives in us and will be with us forever.

You do not have to generate hope for the light to remain. It is already here.

Your exhaustion is not a failure of faith. It is the cost of loving in a broken world.

And the light is strong enough to hold both your grief and their hope.