in the Silence of the sanctuary, in the pew by his lonesome, in the closest thing to heaven on earth, he grew up, the son of a warrior, the intellectual and analytical son, alone with his thoughts, the son of a teacher.

the tinted light radiating through the stained glass artwork outlines his hunches shoulders, his hung head, and reflecting off his slowly flowing tears, creating a sense of depressing vulnerability.

the Silence grew louder, as no pastor spoke the word of the bible, as no offering bowl was passed around, and as the presence of God was somehow the most intense in the absence of the others.

the Silence liberated his thoughts, as he pondered, as he conceded himself to the Silence, as he had always been taught; he had already begun to ask questions that were unanswerable by the laws governing the universe, to ask questions that no man could possibly comprehend.

when the Silence became deafening, and he could no longer bear God’s Silence, he accepted defeat and slowly drug himself into the wilderness of the real world, the farthest thing from heaven, and a literal hell.