Καὶ Τὸ φῶς ἐν τῇ σκοτίᾳ φαίνει

Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν θεόν, καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος.

Οὗτος ἦν ἐν ἀρχῇ πρὸς τὸν θεόν.

Πάντα δι’ αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο, καὶ χωρὶς αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο οὐδὲ ἕν.

ὃ γέγονεν ἐν αὐτῷ ζωὴ ἦν, καὶ ἡ ζωὴ ἦν τὸ φῶς τῶν ἀνθρώπων·

καὶ τὸ φῶς ἐν τῇ σκοτίᾳ φαίνει, καὶ ἡ σκοτία αὐτὸ οὐ κατέλαβεν.

In the beginning was the Word, the divine reason and the perfect ordering of the universe,

and the Word orientated towards God, and the Word was God.

This Word, this divine reason, was in the beginning toward God.

All things came into being through him,

and apart from him not even one thing that exists came to be.

In him was divine, transcendent life, and this life was itself the illumination of humanity.

And this light continues to shine within the darkness, and the darkness has neither comprehended nor overcome it.

All I feel within myself is a God-shaped hole, and it feels like my very essence is excruciatingly torn apart when I realize His absence.

There exists somewhere within this animal body His λὸγος, but that animal's heart only hears deafening darkness.

I walk across the empty streets of Oregon under a vacant night sky, and all I feel is the yearning pull of this animal's heart towards creation's beauty.

This beautifully anguished and overwhelming desire to pry that God-shaped hole wider than ever.

And in this aching absence, I cry.

And what exists within his absence is the site of divine love, which not even darkness has overcome.

And this feeling of being a severed person,

someone doomed to infinite distance from Him,

but by walking towards God,

through that infinite distance,

I will have lived a life closer to itself,

and therefore a life closer to Him.