The Beauty of Darkness
This darkness holds no fear;
within it dwell beauty and candor.
Its vastness each night sings like a canary,
with empty space strumming its solo guitar.
Daytime is full of lies and pretense,
but the darkness of each night
brings peace and tranquility,
and speaks in words of absolute silence.
It is dotted with the glow of stars,
and brushed by the moon’s soft light,
to restore the colors once stolen
by brightness that gives light but steals hue.
In the beauty of darkness dwell shadows—
they drag the feet of imagination
into a realm that starts with indifference
and ends in silent inference—
never a foe to anything moving or stilled in clay.
If you doubt how beauty sleeps,
look up into the night sky.
You’ll see it in its pajamas,
its nakedness wrapped in drapings,
its heavy snores piercing the stillness of night.
Yet the beauty of darkness
is seen only by a still mind
anchored in a steel gut—
where fear lies slain in cold blood,
and gold glitters in bold glare.
That is what makes darkness glow.
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