Fort Nelson

I ponder the primordial forces of creation. Was I made for this: to ponder?

Four forces churn within the Sphere, encircled by Love and Strife.

Is love the reflection of the sunlight on the sphere? Is Love the dancing reflection of vision?

Is Strife the shadow of the Sphere cast wherever it dwells?

Space is the Void and the Void is so, so vast. There is so much space between Us and Everything, there is so much Strife.

And yet, forced together by Fate or Gravity: we discover Love.

Is war Love? Is space Strife?

Perhaps they believe the world is flat not because the world is flat, but because… “the world is flat”. An atlas lies open on a table and I stab at the page with my finger:

Fort Nelson.