Slowly, the light came
His world fell apart. No clue, no notify
Not all at once,not with a sudden crash ,
but inch by inch,
Slowly collapsing.
Even the last piece of ground
beneath his feet
began to give way.
The places that once held
warmth and beauty
were being narrowed,
little by little.
He finally can get that
what the others’ feeling like that.
Maybe this is called desperation
Maybe this is called darkness
There was always some invisible force
pulling ta him,
Dragging him down.
Dragging
Dragging,
Dragging still
Until he fell,
falling into
so called “darkness” with no bottom.
When he opened his eyes again,
all that surrounded him
was a silent field of thorns.
There was not a single ray of light
in the night,
not a trace of warmth
in the air.
As though light and warmth themselves
were things
that were not allowed
to exist here.
He began to doubt
the light he had seen before.
He could no longer make sense
of the world around him.
He could no longer
see clearly into his own heart.
Only when he finally lowered his head
did he realise:
his heart was like a broken mirror,
scattered across the ground;
or like a candle
about to die in the wind,
holding on to its final flicker.
There was no time
to gather the pieces.
No time
to light the flame again.
No time
to light the flame again.
The storm had already arrived.
It swept away the fragments on the ground,
and covered the last trace of light he had left.
He reached out desperately,
trying to catch the pieces
spinning through the air.
One piece, then another.
Their sharp edges
cut into his palms.
Still, with both hands,
He desperately tried to protect that fragile light.
looked at his wounded hands,
then at the broken glass
scattered everywhere.
But the wind did not stop.
And nothing he did
seemed to matter.
The endless night
slowly swallowed his entire body.
Without sympathy. Without hesitation.
The tears running down his face
carried the taste of
self doubting,
self-loathing,
and pain.
The wind grew louder, until even his crying
could no longer be heard.
Then, after a while,
somewhere in the distance,
He heard something.
A sound.
So familiar. So clear.
Somehow, it travelled
through the roaring wind,
one sound after another,
until it reached him.
Among all that noise,
it felt strangely distinct.
Strangely close.
He did not know
where it was coming from.
Until he gently placed
a hand over his chest.
It was his heart making that sound.
His heart had never stopped shining.
A small light began to rise
from somewhere deep inside his chest.
Slowly,
it illuminated his body.
Slowly,
it warmed the tears from his face.
By that little light,
he could finally see
the ground beneath him.
he understood.
The thorns covering the earth
did not lead only into darkness.
If he walked through them,
there might be
a field of golden rice
on the other side.
He lifted his hands
and looked at them.
Only then did he realise
the wounds had already begun to heal.
And the heart
he thought had shattered
into countless pieces
had never truly been broken.
It was a diamond
hidden beneath the cracks.
It was not the breaking
that made it strong.
The cracks had simply
peeled away the shell
that once covered it,
allowing him, at last,
to see what had always
been there.
His heart
had always been a kind of light.
And somehow,
the harder the wind blew,
the gentler that light became.
He was no longer afraid of them:
the storms,
the thorns,
the endless darkness.
Perhaps all of them had been
his life’s greatest gifts.
Faced with the emptiness of the world,
he still chose to search for the light within himself.
Faced with the cruelty of the world,
he still wanted to meet it bravely,
with an open heart and nothing to hide.
So he stood up and continued walking forward.
Let there be storms.
Let there be rain.
Let there be thorns.
Even if the road ahead held more pain,
he would still keep walking.
It was because
he had known darkness
that he found the will
to choose the light.
It was because life
could feel like a tragedy
from beginning to end
that he found the courage
to keep rewriting it
into a comedy.
Little by little.
Page by page.
Book by book.
Slowly, the light came.
It did not suddenly illuminate the whole world.
Nor did it descend from some distant sky.
It simply began somewhere inside his chest,
little by little,
to glow.
His heart had been shining all along.
Lighting his next step,
and then the one after that.
The road ahead
no longer needed
to be seen all at once.
As long as there was still light
beneath his feet,
that was enough.
Slowly, the light came.
Or perhaps,
what he called “the light came”
was simply the moment
he finally realised:
He had always been the light.
Inner Lights 