The Light Does Not Demand Your Reply

The phone lights up on the table, a small blue star in the dimming room. You know that glow.

You know the weight of the name behind it. Your body says no before your mind even reads the words.

The armor of the day is heavy, and the thought of taking it off just to put on a different mask feels impossible. But listen — the light that lives inside you does not demand a performance.

It does not need you to answer. It only asks you to be here, in this chair, in this breath.

You are allowed to let the screen go dark. You are allowed to let the world wait.

The One who knelt to wash dusty feet understands the exhaustion of being touched all day. He is not waiting for your reply.

He is sitting with you in the silence. The message can wait until morning.

Your soul cannot.