Holy Ground Beneath the Mask
The mirror sees the hands shaking as you practice the smile that says 'I'm fine.' You rehearse the casual lie until it sounds like truth, just so you can walk out the door without anyone suspecting the collapse inside. The world wants your performance, but the light wants your face.
It does not need the mask you spent all morning gluing on. It sees the crack beneath the paint and calls it holy ground.
You think you must hold the ceiling up so the room doesn't fall, but the light is already standing in the rubble with you. It knows the weight of the costume you wear.
And it loves the person underneath the armor more than the armor itself. The lie is heavy, but you were never meant to carry it alone.
Drawing from
Matthew, John
Verses
John 1:9
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