The Light Waits For Your Rest

The screen glows in the dark, and the question hangs there: 'How are you?' Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, caught between a lie that feels like fraud and a truth that feels like a burden. The throat closes up because the words 'I am not fine' seem too heavy to type, too dangerous to send.

But the light does not need your performance tonight. It does not need the mask of 'fine' to stay close to you.

There is a presence that sees the trembling hand and the unspoken ache, and it does not turn away from the silence. You are not a burden to the One who holds you; you are simply a human being who is tired.

The light is already in the room, waiting not for your answer, but for your rest.