The prism shattered, broke through the barrier of darkness, of pain, of sickness, of death, and disorder. Treats the wounded, until all things have mended their wings. It gathers together high above the earth to sing songs of the absolute, as it all ends, sinks into a forgotten memory. Can life exist without its counter, could the heavens bear such light without the space of darkness, an equal of its opposite. The absolute is forgetting to name the infinite shards, the broken glass, that which allows the reflection, the retention of a memory obscured in the dream of the living. The light is only brightest in the darkest cave.
– Josh Fleming
Image by: Tim Hodkinson