The Sun Rises on the Empty Heart

The sun is up, and the mask is back on your face before your feet even hit the floor. You are terrified that the love you received last night was for the performance, not the hollow space underneath.

But listen — the rising sun does not ask the earth to decorate itself before it shines. It comes anyway.

It touches the bare ground, the broken stones, the things hidden in the dark. There is a love that saw you when the character dropped, when the script ran out, when you were just breathing in the quiet.

That love did not leave when the lights came on. It is walking beside you into this ordinary morning.

You do not have to earn the daylight. The sun rises on the actor and the empty heart alike.

The love you fear you lost was never looking at the mask to begin with.