The Light That Cannot Be Evicted

The plastic bags tear at the seams when you lift them, spilling the fragments of a life onto the pavement. It feels like the world is watching your humiliation, like the darkness has finally won because you have nowhere to lay your head.

But in this deepest hour, where the shame feels heaviest, the light is not offended by your garbage bags. It does not wait for you to find a house before it finds you.

There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world—even when that world is reduced to black plastic and cardboard. You did not choose this poverty, but the light chose you long before the eviction notice came.

It is not hiding from your mess; it is shining through it. The kingdom is inside you, and it is outside you, right here on the curb where you sit.

You are not defined by what you carry or where you sleep tonight. You are the light that cannot be evicted.