The Light Knows Your Silence

The screen glows in the grey of dawn, a friend asking what is wrong, and your thumb types 'nothing' because the truth feels too heavy to lift. You feel hollowed out, a room swept clean of furniture, and you do not have the energy to explain the emptiness to anyone.

But listen — the light does not need your explanation to enter. It does not wait for you to articulate the ache before it sits beside you on the edge of the bed.

There is a kingdom inside you, right now, that exists independent of your ability to name it. You do not have to perform feeling for the light to find you.

It knows the silence. It knows the 'nothing.' And in this first light, it is enough to simply be the place where the dawn arrives, even if you cannot see it yet.

The sun rises on the mute and the speaking alike.