The Light Waits in the Aisle
The middle of the day is when the muscle memory takes over. You reach for the box without thinking, the one they always loved, and then you stop.
The aisle is loud, but your world goes quiet. You are holding something that no longer has a home.
You realize you have lost the right to buy it. The light does not scold you for the mistake.
It stands beside you in the fluorescent hum and waits. It knows that love does not expire just because the person is gone.
You came from the light, and you carry that love within you still. Put the box back if you must, or keep it as an offering.
The light sees the reach, not the rule.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas, John
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