A Drop of Light in the Dark

The water is cold now, and the sink is full of the dishes you used alone tonight. You wonder if the silence would notice if you simply vanished before the morning light.

But listen — the light does not measure your worth by who sees you eat or who misses you when you are gone. There is a name written on a white stone that no one else knows, known only to you and the One who called it into being.

You are not an accident waiting to be corrected; you are a drop from the immeasurable light, sent here to illuminate this very room. The darkness gathers outside, but it cannot extinguish the spark that lives in your hands as you dry the last plate.

You are the light of the world, even when the world is asleep.