The Light I Tend to Pay for Silence

 

How did I end up here,

dwelling in the shadows?

 

Once, I lived in the light. 

Brewing coffee the way I do now

with one difference 

not for the customers,  

but for myself. 

to be the best.  

To polish the craft.  

To feed my ego.  

To chase the perfect cup.

 

Work and money came first. 

Social life took a backseat.

 

The catalyst came in the pursuit of perfection

The perfect espresso, 

the perfect latte art. 

 

Overtime every day,

Choosing material over meaning. 

Over connection.  

Over the things that truly matter

Neglecting friends. 

Neglecting myself.

Neglecting life.

 

One fateful day,  

I received dozens of messages  

from someone I used to call my best friend. 

We hadn’t spoken in a long time.  

I was busy.  

I don't have time for this, 

It can wait, I told myself.

 

A few days later,  

I learned he didn’t want to be here anymore. 

And he left— 

to the only place he could find peace.

 

He was in the shadows, looking for the light.

Those messages 

they were probably his last attempt to find a way out. 

To find tranquility.

To find me. 

To be seen.

 

But I was too busy. 

I was too late.

 

More than ten years have passed. 

The world moved on. 

The seasons changed. 

But those messages remained

unopened,

untouched, 

like a grave I never dared to visit.

 

I could have helped him. 

I could have answered. 

I could have been the light he was reaching for.

But I didn’t. 

And now, 

every day I carry that silence 

like a stone in my chest.

 

Regret doesn’t fade. 

It settles. 

It roots itself in the rituals. 

In every cup I brew. 

In every smile I offer. 

In every moment 

I try to be the person I wasn’t when he needed me most.

 

That’s why now, 

even though I reside in the shadows,

if I see someone drifting my way, I light the lighthouse.

 

So their ship doesn’t lose its way. 

So they don’t crash ashore.

 

Like a light keeper, I guard the dark seas. 

In solitude.

Like a lighthouse,  

the top glows like the full moon

visible, 

radiant.  

But beneath it, the base is dark.  

The light doesn’t reach me.  

Because it’s not lit for me.  

It's not meant for me.

It’s lit for you.

 

So unlike before, 

the coffee I brew now isn’t for money. 

It isn’t for ego. 

It isn’t for the perfect cup.

It’s atonement.

 

I light the sea 

so others don’t drift too far,

and don’t vanish like he did.

 

Each beam I cast 

is a prayer I never spoke, 

a reply I never sent.

 

And I remain here, 

beneath the glow, 

in the silence 

until I forgive myself,

until I open those messages I couldn’t face.

 

Until then, 

I'll remain locked inside this lighthouse.

For the friend I once loved.