They departed from darkened world under winter rain that fell light and steady from low clouds that suppressed all light from the heavens. In ascent, only the light of wingtips, and those of artificial world beneath, shone as the plane climbed fast through blackness and small turbulence of storm before rising above and into a different darkness of still, but starless, sky.
Holding in heading for the east, light manifested in idea; filtering into presence to paint shaded contours of clouds covering world and sun below.
In descent, they fell through a veil of gray and, under, into a world of gold. Beneath the veil, a new world appeared.
The life of a river cut and shone below, its course bending and curving in flow from source to ending in the sea. He witnessed its cut through the Great Blue Ridge: the crest of is spine painted loden in the hue of winter pines that shaded gray, then into further faintening pastels through light-filter of the sky until beyond curvature of the visible world.
The river fell in swift rapids and falls through cut of ridge over bare shelf of ancient rock. After the fall, the river slowed, broadened. Light shone as gold ribbon upon the river’s surface as its waters spread and, across horizon, interwove with sea where the gold of river, sea, and sky coalesced as universal—indivisible—One where cast in the light of revelation.
The father studied his son enchanted in view of world beneath. He wondered if the little boy saw the world and light the same.
The father did not ask. He left his son, undisturbed, in wonderment and mystery. Sometimes, Wonder is the purpose and answers found therein, discerned in soul, hold beyond limit to words and reason.