I have this idea that the world is an enormous dark whirlwind, a huge engine of death. It tears up and grinds everything in its path, trying to reduce everything to soot and dust and burnt gristle.
And then the good we do is sparks of light, but those sparks get sucked right up into the arms of the whirlwind, and then they go deep down inside, and you don’t know what has happened to them.
But I think that the nature of the darkness is to be temporary, and the nature of the sparks of light is to be permanent. Or maybe it’s that the nature of the darkness is to be unreal, and the nature of the light is to be real.
Whatever it is, I don’t think those sparks of light ever disappear. I think when the dark whirlwind sucks them down, it thinks it’s going to drown them, but it doesn’t, because they’re too real to die. They don’t get drowned at all. The darkness can’t smother them. They just go deep under cover.
So they just build and build and build until one day they explode the darkness from the inside out.
That’s why I try to do good even when the goodness just vanishes into the whirlwind, just sinks under the black surface and disappears. Because it can’t disappear forever.