You Are Found Because You Are Here

The sun is up, but the quiet terror remains: you do not know what you want anymore. The old desires feel like clothes that no longer fit, and the new ones have not yet arrived.

You are standing in the gray space between who you were and who you are becoming. It feels like emptiness, but it is actually a clearing.

The light does not demand you have answers before the day begins. It simply asks you to walk.

There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He ran.

Before the apology, before the speech — he ran. You do not need to know the destination to be held.

The light is not a map you must decipher; it is the ground beneath your feet. You are not lost because you are confused.

You are found because you are here, breathing, letting the morning happen. The terror says you need a plan.

The light says you only need to take the next step. The dawn does not ask you to define yourself before it breaks.

It breaks anyway. And in that breaking, you are already known.