The Light Does Not Need Your Song

The music rises around you, a wave of voices singing words that used to live in your bones but now feel like ash on your tongue. You stand in the middle of the crowd, mouth shut, feeling like a fraud because the honesty of your silence feels heavier than the lie of the song.

But the light does not need your performance to be present; it is not offended by the quiet space where your truth is struggling to form. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world—even when that person is standing still, unable to sing.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord, and that origin is not canceled by a moment of doubt. The song is not the source; you are the vessel, and the source is already inside, waiting for you to stop pretending and start breathing.