The Light Sees Your Hollow Places

The sun is up, but you feel like a ghost haunting your own morning. You are moving through the motions, pouring from a cup that has been empty for days, and the terrifying part is that no one seems to notice the silence behind your eyes.

You smile at the coffee shop. You answer the emails.

You carry the weight of everyone else's expectations while your own soul is whispering for water. But the light does not require you to be full to be seen.

It sees the hollow places. It sees the effort it takes just to stand.

There was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, spent everything she had, and grew worse while the crowds pressed in and ignored her. She did not need a speech or a diagnosis.

She just reached out and touched the edge of a cloak. And the light stopped.

In the middle of the rush, in the middle of the noise, it stopped and turned and called her daughter. You are not invisible.

The light sees you running on empty. And it is not asking you to run faster.

It is asking you to let it carry you.