Stop Singing, The Light Is Waiting

The water is loud tonight. You are singing over the silence because you are afraid that if the music stops, the truth will slip out and ruin everything.

You rehearse the confession in the steam, terrified of the moment the faucet turns off. But listen — the light does not need you to be quiet.

It does not need you to be clean before you speak. There is a room inside you where the door is closed, where no one sees but the One who sees in secret.

You do not have to drown out your own voice to be safe. The light is not waiting for a polished speech.

It is waiting for the trembling honesty you are trying to wash away. You can stop singing now.

The words will not destroy you. They will set you free.