The Ember Waiting Inside the Stone

The sun has set, and with it, the warmth you once felt for the world seems to have vanished. You are afraid that your heart has not just cooled, but turned to stone — that the capacity to care is gone for good.

But the light does not demand a blazing fire from you tonight; it only asks for the smallest ember. There was a man who could not see, not because he was wicked, but simply because he was born into the dark.

When the light asked what had happened, he did not offer a theology or a defense. He said only: one thing I know.

I was blind. Now I see.

That is enough. You do not need to feel everything all at once to be whole.

You only need to admit the one thing you know right now: that you are here, and you are waiting. The hardness you feel is not your final state.

It is the shell protecting the seed while the winter passes. Go to your house, to your own people, and tell them how much the light has done for you — even if all it did was wait with you in the dark.