Everything that happens goes into the black box.
Only God knows what's inside. The black box isn't really anyone's business, though some try to peek. Madmen and artists sometimes imagine they’ve seen inside, but they have only glimpsed the shadow of the box. Sometimes one becomes viscerally aware of the black box: before a great war, when a child goes missing or drowns, as the gun is being raised. Though it’s better to turn towards the dawn. One day the black box will be opened.
The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.
This essay borders on poetry, and I find that immensely gratifying.