Words That Carve
Light Through the Dark

There is a silence before the breaking,

a cathedral hush where the old self kneels.

You will not be spared the shattering—

but you will be held by what remains.

The soul does not hurry.

It grows like oak through stone:

slow, defiant, exact.

You are not late.

You are arriving.

You built them well—

mortar thick with what you were not allowed to feel.

Brick upon brick, a city of survival.

But walls that keep the world out

also keep the light from reaching in.

And somewhere inside that fortress

a child is still waiting for spring.

Dismantling is not weakness.

It is architecture of the brave.

You left yourself in a thousand ordinary rooms—

the kitchen where no one said I love you,

the office where your name became a number,

the bed where you performed being wanted.

Retrieve them.

Go room by room,

kiss the forehead of every ghosted version,

and walk them home.

You are the destination you have been searching for.

Money is not the enemy.

It is a language—

and most of us were taught to speak it

with our mouths full of apology.

True wealth is the moment

you stop borrowing your worth

and begin minting it

from the gold of who you actually are.