But I, I have been ignorant, asleep. I needed reminding that time and the things of falling shall not fall into darkness but into a new freedom we cannot name and so call emptiness. All of reality floats in that vacancy, like the spheres in the void of space, like these words floating in the emptiness of the page. Words try to capture reality, yet what they actually capture are only more words and deeper doubts. Mystery is the preeminent condition of human being—and yet, it is also our freedom to be exactly who we are, free to choose the words our doubts require.
Excerpt: “Ink from the New Moon”
Demons Hide Their Faces