Why the Shadow Departed

Have you ever stood still— noticing the sudden absence of what once followed you everywhere? We think we know the reason. We stitch guesses into tidy shapes, as if they could fill the hollow left behind. But truth is slippery— most times, we can’t hold it at all. We are meant to lift each other, not pile stones in the way of someone else’s climb. So— gentleness can outlast anger. A patient tone travels farther than a shout. Carry a lamp in open palms, not judgment clenched in fists. This was never a wage to earn— only a space to offer, and a gift that cannot be traded. Perhaps the shadow withdrew because the burden bent its back, or because it needed quiet hands to piece together what had shattered. And maybe—just maybe— it will return, changed by distance, tempered by the places it’s walked. Some still whisper in dim corners, but the one who stepped away? They speak now where the light is full and warm.