The deepness of the light; everything changes. The dearness of the deepness; everything returns. So indecisive So charged at times So clear a second after.
Why was it science? Why wasn’t it supernatural? I’ll tell a thought: Because it was placed in a pattern, made a procedure, it lost its haphazardness.
If a formula exists, as exercised, we lean towards science … despite what it feels like.
Back to church, bells ringing, holy water, candles burning, affectation is real. Ethics as maxims, real. Scripture structure, rules, suddenly seized, we ask questions.
So, we say science is part holy, God’s vehicle, we’d never just forfeit something the way it stirs.
On a late thought, each soul is God related—yes—a fiat, a dictum … I’m afforded a couple. What is like otherwise? The deepest of waters consist of tautologies.
Nothing radical. Quite simple.
