The Light We Carry

The world trembles in fury— ripping at itself in grief and forgetting. But you… you stand still, wrapped in a quiet the world no longer recognizes. You feel the smoke press in, hear the clamor of panic, see the sky bruised and broken. But inside this living sphere, you are not untouched— you are anchored. Your hand lifts, slow and open, to greet the butterfly as it passes— not to capture, but to remember: you, too, are made for change. This peace around you— it is not escape. It is your sacred defiance. It is presence. You do not turn away from what is broken. You simply refuse to let it name you. You say: I am not made of your fear. I am the root beneath the storm. I carry light that needs no permission to shine. Let the world rage. Let the towers fall. Still—you breathe. Still—you rise. Still—the garden grows beneath your feet. And now you know: this life is yours to shape. No flame, no fury, no crumbling world can silence what grows inside you. You are not here to survive the storm— you are here to become something beautiful within it. You are the rain that nourishes broken roots. You are the oak that stands against the wind. You are what the world forgot it needed— a stillness strong enough to quiet the rage.