As sensitive (artistic) souls, those of us who have the capacity to hold in the most light, light that shines brightest from fragile jars that are living miracles of the conversion of the sweetest wine from the sludge of the darkest and deepest bayous, we were designed as living metaphors of empathy and dependency. We were created special, sensitive yes, but special, set apart as reflective mirrors of emotions, carrying and releasing soothing sighs and sounds that caress other sensitive (artistic) souls, as well as receiving the lifegiving light and wine from their fragile jars.
Without God, we instinctively cram as much dark matter—“matter” that cannot be detected by the human eye—into our new wineskins until we crack. But this is not necessarily a punishment. No. It’s as natural as the law of cause-and-effect, destructive yes, but an effect nonetheless. Still, it’s more. In the divine realm, it’s a double-edged sword of grace, swirling together both the natural and the supernatural, which yields a thousand tears of repentance.
However, in the kingdom made by human hands, this means-to-end of dark matter—treating others as a means to our end—knows no escape from the black hole of hiding in plain sight. Those who treat us as dark matter suffer just as we do except for the implication that they’re better at hiding their green sludge under their pillows so they can sleep at night or perhaps they’re better at pretending that their swampland is prime real-estate and thus they’re ultimately unable to start the transformation of the photonic process of light or the fermentation of wine unlike those of us with sensitive (artistic) souls, who can’t help but hurt in plain sight.