Dawn Does Not Demand An Apology
The sun is up, but the shadow of last night's shaking still hangs in the room. You reach out, and they flinch—a small recoil that breaks your heart all over again.
The morning light does not scold you for the tremor in your hands. It simply arrives, steady and silent, washing over both of you without condition.
You are not defined by the moment your grip failed. The light that fills this room now is the same light that held you when you were falling apart.
It is not asking you to be perfect before you try again. It is asking you to be present.
The dawn does not demand an apology from the night; it just offers a new beginning. Your hands are safe now because the light is holding them.
Drawing from
Matthew, Gospel of Thomas
Verses
Matthew 6:22-23, Thomas 5
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