Faith, in its purest form, is a chisel; one that shapes the unseen into reality, carving form from nothingness. It is the force that breathes life into what should never have existed, forging monuments out of whispers, dreams out of illusions. Sometimes, this faith is a light, illuminating paths unknown, leading us toward purpose. Other times, it is a shadow, cast upon things indifferent to our devotion, worshiping statues that will never turn their gaze upon us.
There is a mystery in this paradox; why do we believe in things that do not see us? Why do we shape the unshapable, pour our souls into the unmoved? Are we creators, or are we merely sculpted in return? Perhaps, within the silence of unanswered faith, there lies a truth not yet understood.
