The Light Runs Toward Your Cry

The sun has gone down, and the silence in the room feels heavier than it did at noon. You are holding your phone, terrified that the text you sent was too much, that your need for reassurance is a weight they cannot carry.

You are sure you are pushing them away by asking them to stay. But listen — the light does not run from the cry of the lonely.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He did not wait for the apology to finish.

He ran. Before the speech, before the promise to do better — he ran.

Your hunger for connection is not a flaw that drives love away. It is the very thing that draws the light closer.

The darkness makes you feel like a burden. But the light sees your reaching as an invitation, not a demand.

You are not too heavy to be held.