Theobald rises

There was a hand, as big as half the sky, and only the night behind. The hand glowed like an autumn moon, but there was not a star.

Theobald gazed at the hand, but it did not move. He felt that he was as big as all the world. He himself met the sky from end to end. He was the horizon. And the moon was his hand.

At this thought the sky was lit with night.

Theobald thought, “And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.”

He was the darkness.

At this thought, the sky was lit with dawn.

Theobald thought, “And the evening and the morning were the first day.”

But Theobald himself lay beneath the sky, and felt himself consumed with fire.

Theobald gazed at his hand. The hand glowed like a moon lit by fire.

All the sky was lit by fire from end to end. He was the fire. His hand was the moon, and he was the sun.

At this thought, all his body was lit with light.

Theobald thought, “God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night.”

He heard the voice of his mother then. The sweet, soft, voice of his mother said, “Rise. You are the sun.”

The sky began to draw away.

Theobald thought, “And God called the firmament Heaven.”

Heaven was moving away from him.

Theobald rose.

Here was a ceiling. He was not beneath the sky. Heaven had drawn away from him.

Theobald left the dawn and crossed out into the night.

“Rise, my son,” his mother said.

Theobald unfurled his wings and flew up into the sky.