You Are Not a Burden to the Light

The sun has gone down, and with it, the energy to keep the mask polished. Now the truth sits in your throat, heavy and sharp, because you know what happens when you finally speak.

You imagine their eyes glazing over. The pivot of their head.

The subtle shift from presence to pity. You fear that your pain is too vast for their small hands to hold, so you swallow it back into the dark.

But listen. There is a voice that does not glaze over.

A love that does not grow impatient with the weight of your story. The Father's light was already inside you before you spoke a single word, and it remains there whether anyone listens or not.

You are not a burden to the light; you are its home. The truth you carry is not a stone to be dropped; it is the very thing the light has been waiting to illuminate.

Speak, even if only to the silence. The light does not flinch.