The Running Is Over, You Are Safe

The room is quiet, but your legs are screaming to run. You are sitting perfectly still at a table that feels like a trap, yet your muscles are coiled for a sprint that never comes.

It is a strange exhaustion—to be physically stationary while your soul is fleeing a danger that isn't there. In this deep hour, the silence amplifies the phantom rhythm of feet that need to move.

But listen: the light does not ask you to flee. It asks you to stay.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He did not wait for the boy to arrive; he ran to meet him.

The light is already running toward you, so you do not have to run anywhere. You are safe enough to sit.

You are held enough to stop. The running is over.