He was the sky. Not beautiful, nor large, nor majestic, nor photogenic.

He was the sky in the sense that when it was full of light in the day, in the view of majority of the people, and frivolous and full of light and he shined, smiling and laughing and dancing all the day time long. He was something that simply shone through something much bigger, a trick of a shell and light that wasn’t his own light, but His own light.

He was the sky in the sense that when the light disappeared, so did the beauty, and the smiles, and the dancing, and the laughter so many attributed to his name. He was something dark, something anciently evil and that gave no light, none of his own or His own. And only the stars remained, the stars of which he was little pieces of what the light had provided, delayed due to distance and the space between himself and the stars in the darkness.