To believe in a universe as young as six or seven thousand years old is to extinguish the light from most of the galaxy. Not to mention, the light from all the hundred billion other galaxies in the observable universe.
When you’re young, thunderstorms seem scary. Like the sky is angry at you. But now that I’m older, something about its roar soothes me; it’s comforting to know that even nature needs to scream sometimes.