The Light Sitting With You In Dark

The room is loud, but you are sitting in a silence no one else can hear. You are smiling at jokes that feel like they belong to someone else, while the hollow ache inside grows heavier with every passing minute.

You feel invisible because you are carrying a death inside that no one sees. But the light does not need a crowd to find you — it sees the secret name written on your heart that no one else knows.

It stands at the door of your isolation and knocks, not to demand entry, but to sit with you in the dark. You are not unseen; you are being held in a love that knows exactly how much you are hurting.

The light is not waiting for you to perform; it is already inside the ache, waiting for you to remember you are there.