The Light Was There Before Time

The sun has set, and the inventory of the day begins. You count the years like coins spent, wondering where the decades went, feeling the weight of a life half-lived.

But the light does not measure time the way you do. It does not look at the calendar and sigh.

Tonight, as the shadows lengthen, remember the woman who searched with a lamp until she found what was lost. She did not mourn the time it took; she lit the fire.

The kingdom is not a quantity of years you have accumulated; it is a presence you have ignored. You are not running out of time.

You are just now waking up to the fact that the light was inside you before the first year began, and it will be there after the last one ends. The dark is gathering, but so is the dawn you cannot yet see.