The Hidden Journal

It never chased me.
It never shouted my name through the dark.
It just stayed —
steady,
patient,
burning softly in the distance
like it knew I’d find my way back.

───

I mistook its quiet for absence.
But it was always there —
waiting,
not watching,
trusting that even my wandering
was part of the return.

───

The light that waited
never asked me to hurry.
It never held my mistakes against me.
It only kept glowing —
through every detour,
through every version of me
that forgot how to look up.

───

And when I finally came home,
it didn’t flare in triumph.
It simply opened its arms of gold
and said,
I never left.

───

That’s the thing about true light —
it doesn’t rescue you.
It remembers you.
It waits until you can bear its gentleness again.

───

And when you do,
you realize:
it wasn’t the light that changed.
It was you —
finally ready to stand in it.

───

— Desiree