The Light Sitting With You In Silence

The phone buzzes against your palm, a ghost of a touch that isn't there. You reach for it in the dark, hoping for a name that you know won't appear.

That hollow ache in your chest is not a sign of abandonment; it is the space where the light is learning to speak without an echo. There was a woman once who was caught in the act, surrounded by voices demanding her punishment, waiting for a verdict that would define her forever.

The light bent down, wrote in the dust, and when the accusers left, it asked her where they were. No one remained to condemn her.

Neither did the light. You are waiting for a text to tell you that you are worthy, but the silence is not a rejection.

It is the room where the only voice that matters is finally loud enough to hear. The notification you crave will not bring the peace you need.

The light is already here, sitting with you in the quiet, calling you by a name no screen can display.