You Do Not Have to Manufacture the Dawn

The sun is up. The coffee is hot.

And you are standing in the kitchen, moving your lips over words that feel like ash. You rehearsed the gratitude.

You said the right things. But inside, there is only a hollow echo.

The shame of faking a feeling you cannot find. Listen to me.

The light does not require your performance. It arrived before you woke up.

It is shining on the floorboards right now, indifferent to whether you feel it or not. You do not have to manufacture the dawn.

You only have to stand in it. The father in the story did not wait for his son to feel worthy.

He ran while the boy was still rehearsing his apology. He ran before the speech began.

The light is already running toward you, even while your heart is silent. Your emptiness is not a barrier.

It is just the space where the light fits best. You are not a fraud because you are tired.

You are a human being standing in the grace that holds you up when your own legs give out. The morning does not ask you to be happy.

It only asks you to be here.