The Light Holds You Without The Mask

The morning light is bright enough to show every flaw in the mask you are wearing. You are scanning your own words, waiting for the one slip that proves you don't belong here.

You think if you are perfect enough, you can earn your place at the table. But there was a woman caught in a crime so public the whole town wanted her dead.

The light did not ask for her credentials. It did not ask for her perfection.

It simply bent down and wrote in the dust until the accusers left. Then it looked up and said the only thing that matters: neither do I condemn you.

The light sees behind the performance. It sees the exhaustion of trying to be worthy.

And it loves what it finds there. You do not have to hold the mask up for one more second.

The light is already holding you.