The Dawn Arrives Anyway

The sun is rising, but your hands are still frozen in your lap, terrified that reaching out might break what you are trying to hold. You watch your child sleeping, afraid that your touch carries the memory of the storm instead of the peace of the morning.

But the light does not calculate the risk of contact; it simply shines. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world — even the parts of you that feel broken.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord, and that origin cannot be contaminated by your fear. The dawn is not waiting for you to be perfect before it touches the earth; it arrives anyway, gentle and inevitable.

Your hesitation is real, but the light inside you is realer. The sun rises not because you earned it, but because it is the nature of the sun to rise.