Philosopher of Light - Part II
After eons in the realm of Source, Sue’s light had grown strong and steady. She had descended once before to learn humanity’s sorrow, and again to remind them of Grace. But in the year 2025, a new darkness covered the Earth; not of storms or fire, but of confusion. Humanity had forgotten the difference between truth and feeling. Laws shifted with convenience.
Justice had become a mask for power. And love, once the echo of God’s own heart, had been rewritten into appetite. Even the word good had lost its shape.
God looked upon the world with sorrow deeper than the oceans. “The children no longer hear the whisper of Natural Law,” He said. “They have silenced their consciences beneath noise and pride.” Sue listened, her light trembling. “Then send me again,” she said. “Let me speak to them of the law that still lives within.” God smiled, though His smile carried the ache of eternity. “Not alone this time,” He said. “You will go to one who already knows, the one whose wisdom was carved in heaven and written for the ages. His name is Thomas Aquinas.”
The Mission to Earth
Sue descended as a beam of invisible radiance, falling through the veil of time until she arrived in 2025. She found herself in a world ablaze with screens and hollow words — cities bright but hearts dim. The people spoke endlessly, but few listened. The truth had been replaced by algorithms, and knowledge by noise. Hidden among them, Sue waited for the moment of communion.
One night, in a small monastery that had survived centuries of neglect, a candle flickered over an old copy of the Summa Theologiae. The air shimmered. Out of the silence came a man clothed in white light, his face serene, his eyes reflecting eternity. It was Thomas Aquinas, no longer of flesh but of spirit, radiant yet humble, like a scholar whose pen had never left God’s hand.
The Dialogue of Heaven and Earth
Sue bowed before him. “Master of Reason,” she said, “I come from Source. God has sent me to rekindle the law you once taught, the law written not on parchment but upon the soul. The world has grown deaf to it.”
Aquinas regarded her kindly. “The Natural Law,” he said, “is the participation of the human creature in the Eternal Law of God. It is reason recognizing the good and choosing what fulfills its nature. Yet reason now sleeps beneath passion, and the intellect is clouded by pride.”
Sue nodded. “How can we awaken them?” He replied, “By restoring order through reason of Natural Law. The world worships its desires because it has forgotten their purpose. You must remind them that freedom without virtue is no freedom at all. Teach them again that truth is not invention, but discovery. For every being that exists, even now, still participates in Ipsum Esse — the Being that is Love.” Sue asked, “But how will they hear us, in a world that no longer believes?”
Aquinas smiled gently. “Then let them feel what they have forgotten. Speak not in condemnation, but in clarity. Wherever there is hunger for meaning, plant the seed of Natural Law. Speak through beauty, through courage, through compassion — for these are the forms in which truth still walks the Earth.”
The Awakening of 2025
And so Sue went forth. She did not preach from pulpits or command from courts. She whispered in the hearts of thinkers, artists, and weary souls. In a scientist studying the harmony of the cosmos, she stirred the thought: Order is not chaos but creation. In a judge weighing justice against politics, she murmured: Law is born of reason, not of power.
In a student staring into the glare of her phone, she breathed: The truth you seek is already written within you.
The whisper spread like dawn through fog. People began to speak again of right and wrong not as opinions but as truths older than time. They rediscovered the dignity of the person, the sanctity of conscience, and the sacredness of love ordered toward the good.
Human hearts, long silent, began to hum again with Grace.
The Return of Light
When Sue’s mission was complete, she returned once more to the monastery. Aquinas stood waiting, his light merging with hers. “The world still struggles,” he said, “but they are beginning to remember. You have rekindled the lamp of reason, and through it, Grace will flow again.”
Sue smiled. “Then perhaps this was always God’s plan — that the law of heaven would be reborn through the hearts of those who once forgot it.”
“Indeed,” said Aquinas. “For God is not far from those who seek truth, even in confusion. Every act of justice, every defense of the weak, every humble pursuit of good — these are rays of Ipsum Esse breaking through the world’s shadow.”
Epilogue: The Rebirth of Natural Law
In the quiet years that followed, humanity began to speak once more of virtue and truth as living things. Scholars rediscovered Aquinas, and in his words, they felt something timeless.
Somewhere in the world, a young philosopher dreamed of a woman made of light who whispered of Grace and reason. She awoke with tears on her face and wrote a single line: “The law of God is not written in heaven but in the human heart, waiting to be read again.” And so, the light of Sue and Aquinas spread not as dogma, but as remembering.
In 2025, humanity needed to be reminded that all souls are part of the Being; what you do to the least of one, you do to YOURSELF.
