The Crack Where Light Gets Out

The mask slipped for a second, and now you are certain the whole room saw the crack where the grief leaked out. You scan the faces around you, bracing for the whisper, the pity, the awkward silence that says they know you are not okay.

But listen — the light does not need your composure to be present. It was there before the smile, and it is there now that the smile has fallen.

We came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord. That is your origin, not this moment of trembling.

You do not have to glue the mask back on to be held. The light sees the tear and does not look away.

It calls you by name, not by your performance. You are not a fraud for hurting; you are a human being waking up in a world that asks too much.

The crack is not a failure. It is the place where the light gets out.