You Were Meant to Be Sheltered

The world sees your steady hands and assumes you have no need of being held. You walk through the morning carrying everyone else's weight, smiling while your own shoulders ache from the load.

You have become the shelter, so you forget that you were meant to be the one sheltered. But the light sees the mask you wear to keep the peace.

It sees the exhaustion hidden behind the 'I'm fine.' And it knows you are thirsty in the middle of the crowd. There was a man who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years, lying beside a pool while others stepped in before him.

He had no one to help him. The light did not ask him to prove his strength or explain his wait.

It simply asked: do you want to get well? It saw the one nobody noticed.

You do not have to be the strong one today. You do not have to carry it all.

The light is not looking for a pillar to lean on; it is looking for a friend to hold.