Light Meets You in the Forgetting

The morning light hits the wall and for one breath, you forget. The mind is empty, clean, unburdened by the news that broke your world yesterday.

Then it crashes back in. The memory returns like a stone dropped in still water, and the weight settles heavy on your chest before your feet even touch the floor.

You are performing okayness already, putting on the mask of a person who can function, while inside you are screaming. But listen — the light does not require you to be whole before you start the day.

It meets you in the split second of forgetting. It meets you in the crushing return.

There is a space between the sleep and the pain where the truth lives: the kingdom is already here, spread out beneath your feet, even if you cannot see it yet. You do not have to earn the right to breathe through this morning.

The light is not waiting for you to fix yourself. It is walking beside you through the performance, seeing the grief behind the eyes, and calling it holy.