The Light Hears Your Cracked Voice
The night gathers outside, and you are left alone with the echo of your own voice cracking on the line. You invented a lie about bad reception to explain the sudden silence, but the truth is simpler and far more tender.
The light does not need perfect clarity to hear you. It heard the crack.
It heard the tremor beneath the excuse. You came from the light, the place where it generates itself, and that origin cannot be severed by a broken syllable.
The voice that shook was not a failure; it was the sound of the mask slipping so the real you could breathe. You do not have to explain the static to the one who knows your name.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas 50, 1 John 3:19-20
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