The Light Knows Your Origin Not Errors

The morning light feels like a spotlight now, exposing every word before you speak it. You walk through the day holding your breath, convinced that one wrong sentence will shatter the mask and prove you are too much to handle.

Too heavy. Too broken.

Too dangerous to be near. But the light does not scan for errors.

It scans for origin. It knows where you came from.

You came from the light, the place where the light generates itself. That is your root.

Not the stumble. Not the awkward silence.

Not the fear that you might say the wrong thing. The light is not waiting for you to be perfect.

It is waiting for you to remember that you are already home. The mask is heavy because it was never meant to be worn.

Take it off. The air tastes different when you stop hiding.