A passage for possible inclusion in a future work to be entitled 'The Crack that Ran All the Way to the Sea'.

I looked into the sky and saw that, in its vastness and the severity of its moods, it could mirror a human soul. I stood there looking, but the one I saw did not mirror any I might recognise. I watched it change, wondering if it grew closer or further away from achieving that perfect self-reflection, knowing that if it ever did, I would be able to look up at this heavenly extension and understand myself and the world in all our simplicity and profoundness. But today was not that day. Maybe no day of my life had ever been or would ever be that day. Maybe when the day came, the configuration would softly emerge, the inevitability of the moment somehow obvious in the instant, as brief and as recognisable as noon, but I would be diverted by some foolish errand and not look up, and the form would drift apart never to be seen. Nevertheless, I trusted it one day to tell; maybe long after my demise, the truth of my soul would be resplendent in the sky.