He had loved deeply, hurt deeply, lost deeply. Some days his heart cracked like pottery losing its shape.

In a very quiet moment, he said: “The wound is where the light enters you.”

Not poetry. Not philosophy. Not comfort.

Just a truth seen clearly: the heart breaks not to end, but to widen.

When he accepted the crack, pain ceased being an enemy. Loss ceased being darkness. Love ceased being something to hold.

In that opening, light entered — not from outside, but from the place he once sealed.

The way in opened — from a wound that seemed unbearable.

Not through overcoming. But through opening.