Driving back home from work in the rain, grey foreboding clouds omnipresent in the sky,
I crested the hill to look out over the city of Aberdeen. Oddly enough,
a gentle light bathed the city. I looked up to see an opening in the sky,
almost as if someone standing on the clouds above had taken a giant shovel
to the grim layer and scooped a hole. A diamond shaped hole,
wedged through the scowling storm-clouds like a tent peg driven through
the earth, boldly defiant on a canvas of weeping faces drawn
in pain and deep weariness and hopeless abandon of all that is good,
like a stained glass window except without the glass and without the stain,
and through this window in the sky I could see bright blue sky and golden tinted clouds,
bearing witness to the presence of the sun. All around me was rain and gloominess,
but in the sky, I could see hope. Hope in the shape of a diamond, pure and clear and and beautiful.
And as I drove further, I could see the city glow softly in the sun,
the moisture-laden air giving the light an inviting feeling.
And then, I entered the realm of the light.
The rain ceased. The clouds were still all around me, hovering.
But above, blue. And the sun.