The Light Lives in the One Who Sees

The street is quiet now, and the glass of the shop window has become a mirror. You look at the person staring back — the tired eyes, the hollow cheeks, the stranger wearing your clothes — and you do not recognize them.

It feels like the face you knew has been erased, replaced by someone who has endured too much. But the light does not live in the reflection.

It lives in the one who is looking. There is a depth behind your eyes that the glass cannot show.

A silence that has never been broken by the noise of the world. You are not the image caught in the dark pane.

You are the witness. The one who sees.

And the seeing proves you are still here, still whole, still holding the light that no shadow can touch.