The Light Arrives Before You Do

The sun is up. The light is returning to the room.

And someone asks you a simple question: 'What do you want?' Your mind goes blank. Not because you are empty, but because the noise of the last night has drowned out the quiet voice inside that knows the answer.

You feel paralyzed by the choice, as if your compass is broken. But the light that rose this morning did not wait for you to figure it out first.

It simply arrived. It is already here, filling the space where your panic lives.

There is a spring of water welling up inside you that knows what you need before you do. You do not have to manufacture the answer from scratch.

You only have to be still enough to hear the whisper beneath the fear. The answer is not a task you must complete; it is a gift waiting to be received.