I used to find no light.

No flowers.

I didn’t know what it meant to hold something beautiful, or let it hold me.

I was alone — and yes, I felt safe —

but not the kind of safe that protects you.

It was the kind of safety you build to protect yourself from the world,

from hope,

from trying.

I thought safety meant hiding from the light,

from the flowers.

From anything that could change me.

But something shifted.

I wanted to try.

To look for the light in life —

that same light I had once, so briefly, so purely.

It had felt peaceful, beautiful, almost impossible to grasp.

And I wanted it back.

But soon I realized:

The light can’t hold everything.

It can guide,

it can warm,

it can show you the way —

but even the light is missing something.

It wasn’t until I lost the light that I found the flowers.

Colorful.

Delicate.

Real.

The flowers taught me what trust could feel like.

What truth could look like.

But they, too, were missing something.

“Where there is light, the flowers will find it,” they say.

And I think that’s true.

You can’t have the light without the flowers —

because the light needs something to shine on.

And the flowers?

They need the light to grow.

So don’t give up if you’ve only found the light,

or if all you have right now are the flowers.

One will lead you to the other.

And when they finally meet —

when the light and the flowers are together —

you’ll see the beauty of life bloom before you.

And you’ll know you were meant to find it.