There’s no sound when the sky cracks—no thunder and lightning; no earthquakes or tsunamis.
There aren’t any traffic jams. Buildings don’t come crumbling down, and there aren’t any explosions, or pipes bursting.
There’s no bearded figure gliding down on a white cloud. Neither is there an ‘expert’ who feels the need to give a plausible explanation for what’s just happened.
There’s no panic.
Cosmic consciousness covers the earth like wildfire, and (incredible as it may sound) it doesn’t take long to comprehend the importance of the occurrence. Complete silence is irresistible, after all.
In that split second the world comes to an end.
Nobody moves. The wolves don’t howl and the birds don’t fly away. Not even the ants and cockroaches crawl up the walls for higher ground.
There’s only a fissure in the sky, a fissure of implausible reality that opens up like a clean wound, not to swallow hope and love and dreams, but to unite, if only for a moment.