When darkness descended rotation became reeling, and orbit a free fall. But against the blackness a multitude revealed: celestial spheres weeping a bitter cup. Running over, it eclipsed the Son whose halo trickled o’er the sacred struggle. Light would not withdraw— reeling became re-turning and free fall, ascent. How can we go on hoarding the light as if saving it could save us? Grace angles our glass darkly until projection and self-reflection dissipate. Not needing to be the light we mirror it to weeping sons. That their burdens may be light. And when truth is mirrored between souls holding darkness and light in wholeness— eternity.
Van is a full-time scientist and part-time scribbler wondering what to be when he grows up. He loves board games, sushi, and embracing life with his wife and four daughters.
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