If God is light, he is little

Light is important to us. With our narrow eyes, we swoon for a glow, a flower, a sun, or a volcano. The moon will have frightened generations of souls, lightning will have preached to many spirits, legions of princes and kings will have wielded gold and silver and thus subdued entire peoples by the mere demonstration of a sparkle.

Now, the light, however powerful it may be, is in the blink of an eye obscured by any stone, by the first dense object that comes along. The photons stop suddenly, absorbed by the opacity of things.

At least, that’s our perception. Our daily Universe is made up of misleading reflections and optical illusions. And what about the others, those dogs that see in black and white, those moths that sniff more than they look, those bats that perceive the path through the echo it produces. In the end, if God is Light, he is little.

The material is a kaleidoscope of various densities. From this play is born the radiation which, in successive wave steps, spreads and swells. It is not surprising to lose one’s Latin. There would be no light without its absence, no wonder without this nameless presence that is called, in the lack of a better understanding, the Universe. Don’t you feel the constant vibration of the hammer against the anvil?

To perceive beyond contrasts, Chinese shadows, platonic rays, let us begin by closing our eyes so that, before the light reaches the brain, it is stopped at the doors of our understanding. Question your perceptions, look differently, no longer obey these bright ideas that push you to kill and judge. You are swimming in a beautiful innocence. May you find there your thirst and your lost childish delirium.