16.01.2026

Looking Up

I stood beneath the dome long after the others left.
Light fell through stained glass like whispered prayers, coloring the stone with borrowed hope.

Above me, a narrow walkway circled the ceiling. I imagined footsteps there—those who once believed enough to climb higher.

When the lights dimmed, I finally understood: faith wasn’t in the ceiling or the windows.

It was in the courage to look up, even when nothing answered back.

I left quietly, carrying the silence like a blessing.

💫Maggie

The Afterlove Voice 💫