The light

  There was once a woman who sat beneath the moon each night, her journal unopened in her lap. She had promised herself she’d write the story that lived inside her, but every evening, she told herself, “Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.”


The moon, ever patient, watched her night after night. One evening, it whispered, “Why do you wait?”

She sighed, eyes misty. “Because yesterday, I tried and failed. The words didn’t come. I was too tired. Too unsure.”


The moon glowed gently, unmoved by time. “But I rise every night without asking yesterday’s permission. Wy ask permission from yesterday? Anything holding you back today is only a memory of yesterday or something that has not even been created. I don’t sit wondering about yesterday or what I would look like next week. I am here today because I am….with no permission to be.”


The words hit home.

That night, the woman opened her journal. Not because her doubts had vanished, but because the moon had reminded her: showing up is enough. The past need not be carried to the present. And sometimes, all it takes is a little light to begin again.


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