You Are the Cup That Cannot Be Emptied

The morning asks you to wear a face that says you have it all together. You smile at the desk, you nod in the meeting, but inside you are counting every drop, terrified that the well is running dry.

You perform okayness because you believe abundance is something you must earn before you can keep it. But the light sees behind the mask — and it knows that scarcity is the lie you were taught to wear.

There is a goodness that does not ration itself. It is pressed down, shaken together, and running over, poured directly into your lap without a price tag.

You do not need to tighten your grip to hold it. The fear that there won't be enough is the only thing blocking the flow.

You were not made to hoard the light; you were made to be the cup that cannot be emptied.