Cathedral of Birth Carved by Its Own Light I wanted to show how newborn stars chisel the very pillars that raised them, turning shelter into scripture. Here the ionization front becomes a torn decision-membrane, jets delaminate time into mica shelves, and a gold silence plume hushes the sky as if silence itself were matter. At the edge of comprehension, the viewer stands in sacred quiet, feeling warmth spill from arc-weld stars across stone-dark dust.