13/07/2025
The Vision
I was walking home from school, the sun still hanging low, casting long shadows on the dusty road. Each step stirred the dry earth beneath me, but my thoughts wandered far from the world of schoolbooks and classrooms.
There was a weight in my chest, not heavy with sadness, but full of questions—questions too vast for my young mind to fully grasp.
How did all this come to be?
Who painted the sky so blue, and filled it with clouds like ships sailing in slow silence?
Who carved the mountains, stirred the winds, and set the rivers to run?
And most of all… who made me?
I stared at my own hand, slowly turning it in the golden sunlight. I pinched the soft flesh of my arm.
"Is this real?" I whispered to myself, half afraid of the answer.
I looked around—the trees gently swayed as if they too were thinking. The birds above called out like messengers of some secret truth. The whole world seemed to pause… listening.
Then, without warning, the world around me began to dissolve. The path, the trees, the sun—all faded like morning mist.
I was no longer walking.
I was floating.
All around me was light—not sunlight, but something purer. A great glowing presence surrounded me like a sphere, yet it had no edges. It was formless, like holding silence in your hands, like light made of thought.
I wasn’t alone—but neither was there anyone there.
I felt something. Or someone.
A presence.
It wasn’t a voice, yet it spoke.
It wasn’t a person, yet I knew it was alive.
It was greater than anything I had ever felt. Not just larger—but deeper, older, endless.
I didn’t know whether to cry or fall to my knees. But I had no knees here. I was just... awareness. Just spirit.
A strange fear crept in—not of harm, but of holiness. The kind of fear that feels like awe, like standing before the sea for the first time and realizing how small you are.
Then, like a blink, it was gone.
The road returned. The dust, the trees, the sun warming my back.
I stood still for a long time.
The world looked the same—but it wasn’t. I wasn’t.
I had touched something—something beyond the skin and the bones, something ancient and beautiful and vast.
From that day on, I never looked at the world the same way again.
I still don’t.
Francis.
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