Tessellations
Look! These are just the fringes of his ways; Only a faint whisper has been heard of him!
Last night, as we crossed the threshold of dusk, a thunderhead rose— thirty thousand feet of sky-clad majesty, a colossus of cloud and light.
So vast, its motion looked still. It waited. A sentinel of vapor, crowned in flashes of unseen fire, looming above our journey like a god unspoken.
The world bent beneath its gaze— mountains bowed, cities dimmed, our destination cowered in its shadow.
Weight—more than all elephants ever conceived by earth— a Kilimanjaro of pachyderms, silent and unshakeable.
And yet, this was merely an afterthought— a side-glance of the Maker, Jehovah, whose breath begets fractals, whose fingers write tessellations in lightning and chemistry, in the tongue of physics and fire.
Who are we— dustlings in chariots of steel— that He should remember us?
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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper