Winter Hours In the winter I was writing about, there was much darkness. Darkness of nature, darkness of event, darkness of spirit. The sprawling darkness of not knowing. We speak of the light of reason. I would speak here of the darkness of the world, and the light of ...... But I don't know what to call it.
Maybe hope. Maybe faith, but not a shaped faith - only, say, a gesture, or a continuum of gestures. But it is probably closer to hope, that is more active, and far messer than faith must be. Faith, as I imagine it, is tensile, and cool, and has no need for words. Hope I know, is a fighter and a screamer.