Chris Stevens
4.18, "Northern
Lights"
Goethe's final words:
"More light." Ever since we crawled out of
that primordial slime, that's been our
unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight.
Torchlight. Candle light. Neon. Incandescent.
Lights that banish the darkness from our
caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides
of our refrigerators. Big floods for the
night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny
flashlight for those books we read under the
covers when we're supposed to be asleep.
Light is more than watts and foot candles.
Light is metaphor.
Thy word is a lamp
unto my feet.
Rage, rage against the dying of the
light.
Lead, Kindly Light, amid the
encircling gloom
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from
home—
Lead Thou me on!
Arise, shine, for thy light has come.
Light is knowledge.
Light is life. Light is light.
[Listen to
Enya's Ebudae, which plays as Chris
lights the sculpture.
Chris quotes
The Holy Bible Psalm 119:105; Dylan Thomas, "Do Not Go
Gentle Into That Good Night," in
Selected Poems 1934-1952 ;
John Henry Newman,
The Pillar of the Cloud; and
Isaiah 60:1.] |
