The Light Sitting Beside You

The morning light is gray and thin, the kind that makes the house feel too large for one person. You reached for the seatbelt today, your hand moving to click it into place for the passenger who isn't there.

The silence after that empty click is louder than any engine. But listen — the rising sun is coming to shine on those living in darkness, not to scold them for stumbling in the gray.

The light does not require you to be strong enough to carry this alone. It simply arrives.

You made it through the night. That is enough.

The dawn is not asking for your performance, only your presence. The light is already here, sitting in the seat beside you, waiting for you to see it.