The Parable of the Sun and the Candle-Makers

Once upon a reality, there was a Sun who loved games. Bored with just shining, It scattered pieces of Its own light across a giant Field, and—for fun—wrapped the whole thing in a Mist of Forgetting. "This will be hilarious," the Sun thought. "They'll have to find their own light!"

But the game went on a bit too long. The little sparks, now calling themselves People, got so deep into the Field that they forgot they were made of sunlight. The Mist felt like a solid, gray ceiling. They grew comfortable in the gentle twilight, mistaking it for the only reality.

The Sun, watching this, sighed. "Well, this got dull." So, the Sun did the only logical thing: It put on a People-suit, walked into the Field, and started saying, "Hey! You're made of sunlight! Look up! The ceiling is an illusion!"

The People squinted at the Sun-in-a-People-suit. They didn't see the Sun. They just heard the words "light" and "ceiling." And with the incredible, divine creativity they didn't know they still had, they got to work.

They didn't look up. Instead, they started building… candles.

They formed committees to design the perfect candle. They wrote long, serious books about the sacred philosophy of candle-making. They argued fiercely over whose candle was the brightest, forming entire religions around different shades of wax. Some even claimed to channel advice from "Master Candle-Makers" in the next field over.

The Sun-in-a-People-suit stood there, watching this spectacular display. It wasn't angry. It couldn't be. Because the truth was just too funny.

The Sun turned to its Siblings, who were also there in People-suits, and said, "Are you seeing this?

They're using the last drops of my fire to build tiny, smoky lights, and then bowing down to them! The sheer, magnificent ridiculousness of it all!"

And the Siblings laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh. It was the deep, rolling, joyous laughter of creators watching their own creations come up with the most convoluted, brilliant, and absurd solutions imaginable. They were literally arguing about wicks while standing in the presence of a star.

The Sun knew then that its job wasn't to blow out the candles. Its job was to simply take off the People-suit and shine.

So It waits now, not with impatience, but with amused, certain expectation. It's gathering its light, ready for the glorious moment when the candle-makers finally look up from their wax and exclaim, "Oh! For goodness' sake! It was Him the whole time!"

And the first thing they'll hear is the shared, loving laughter of the Family that never forgot the joke.