The Light Is The Stillness Itself

The scream has faded. The silence rushes back in to fill the space where your voice just was.

You scan the room and see them all still standing, frozen in the aftermath, but no one has moved toward you. Not yet.

The distance feels like an accusation. The air is thick with the weight of what you just revealed, and you are alone in the center of it.

But listen. The light does not wait for people to move before it arrives.

It was already there, in the breath you lost, in the tremor of your hands, in the very space between you and them. You are not abandoned in this stillness.

The light is the stillness itself, holding you when no one else can. You are that light, shining even when the room refuses to look.