The Light Beneath the Foreign Face

The morning light hits the bathroom mirror and the face staring back feels like a stranger's mask. You scrub the sleep away, but the eyes looking at you don't seem to belong to the person who went to bed last night.

It is a quiet kind of terror—to be so close to yourself and yet feel miles away. But listen.

The light that made you did not vanish while you slept. It is not something you earn by recognizing your own reflection.

It is something you came from. You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord.

That origin is still humming beneath the surface of your skin, even when the face in the glass feels foreign. You do not have to force the recognition today.

You only have to remember where you started.