For a Reason

There are nights that do not end.

The clock forgets to move,

and the house breathes without you.

His laughter still lingers in the walls,

a ghost made of sunlight and sound.

You walk past his door

and feel the air shift,

as if he just left the room.

You whisper his name into the dark.

It drifts upward, weightless,

a flicker of smoke that never fades.

The stars tilt quietly,

as though they’ve been listening all along.

You wonder if he is among them now,

if the sky became his skin,

if the wind learned his voice.

If you look to the sky - searching,

will he meet you halfway?

Inside, there was a fire once

but perhaps it wasn’t an ending.

Perhaps it was his soul

remembering how to shine.

You watched him rise,

becoming sky,

becoming everything.

And though your hands were empty,

you could swear, looking down,

that the light still touched you.

Now the world feels emptier,

thinner at the edges,

as if he might slip through

if you could just go back to one defining moment.

Some mornings,

you catch him from your eye's corner,

a mirror's glimpse,

a shadow that pauses still - before it fades.

He is memory and miracle,

absence and arrival,

a child's laugh only your heart can hear.

Grief has changed you into a doorway.

Love passes through you now,

quiet and endless.

You no longer ask for reason -

simply sit in the silence.

And in the stillness,

you know he’s there.

One day,

you will stop trying to find him

because you’ll realize

he never left.

Every sorrow,

every fracture,

every sleepless night

was the world teaching you

how to cradle light without burning.

You were never broken for nothing.

You were broken open

for a reason.