The Revolution

Between Wonder and Terror

This is, after all, a philosophy blog.

The tent holds its breath. Outside, the storm builds, wind probing for weaknesses in the canvas, lightning illuminating the landscape in stark flashes. Inside, the company has taken their positions for The Revealer—that most ancient and dangerous of performances, not seen in a generation. Each performer holds a small flame, creating a constellation of human defiance against the gathering darkness.

Two plus two equals four. There are twenty-four hours in a day. And the tragic dimension awaits us all.

The little girl with the candle stands at the edge of the center ring, her flame now steady in hands that have found their purpose. The Historian clutches the ancient Charter to her chest. The solitary woman, no longer defined by absence, takes her place among the defenders. And I, no longer merely an observer, feel the weight of the stake in one hand, my candle in the other—the tools of preservation rather than documentation.