The Light Lives in the Quiet Room
The room is quiet, but your thumb keeps moving, scrolling through the silence, hoping for a name to light up the screen. You are waiting for a signal from the outside to prove you are remembered, to prove you matter.
But the light does not live in the notification bar. It lives in the quiet room with you.
Split a piece of wood, and the light is there. Lift up the stone, and you will find it there.
It was there before the phone lit up, and it is there now in the dark glass. You are not waiting for someone to think of you.
You are already held by the one who knows your name without needing to type it.
Drawing from
Gospel of Thomas, Matthew
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