Shedding the Shape, Keeping the Light

There is a specific ache in looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger wearing your life, the skin loosening, the hands becoming unfamiliar. You stand there performing the morning, smoothing your hair, telling the world you are fine while the reflection whispers a quiet panic. But remember, the wine was already aging in the cellar, and the vine already dying back in winter, waiting for the spring to come again. You are not losing yourself to this body; you are simply shedding the shape that no longer holds the light. The light inside you does not wrinkle, does not weaken, and does not care for the clock on the wall.

You are the drop of light sent into this world, and the vessel it inhabits changes, but the drop remains pure. The kingdom is within you, and it does not age with your bones. You are not falling away; you are being made new, even here, right now.