What would science or math tell me of morning or of the spinning
winds of destruction or the vile whiteness hoards or of sunset at the end of
day? What formula would solve Houston or
Irma or Charleston? We look out upon the
world, its greenness and its meanness and find no answers in the ivory towers
of progressive facts. We just stand and
look at the ivy-covered walls of knowledge as the ivy continually creeps
silently. We need great buttress of art to
uphold these fortresses for the facts of life or not facts at all but the
mysterious rising incense in our cathedral souls and the candle lit grottos of
our hearts. If God be real then our art
must be His evidence.
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| A line made while hiking. |
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