The Dark

When the lights turn off, what do you see? Do you see your future? Your past? Your here and now? What do you hear? Do you hear the loved? The hated? The lost and forgotten? What do you feel? The contempt for your torturer? The love for your mistress? The regret of the moments that ceased to exist before you could eternalize them? Why when we’re in the dark are we afraid? shouldn’t we feel safe, saved from the pain, and the very temporary pleasure, Serenaded by our most inner thoughts, Blanketed in the knowledge that the dark only controls the moments of the night when the moon and stars are too shrouded by objects to be seen, the knowledge of the forthcoming light saving us from cliff diving into the jagged wake of insanity, Shouldn’t we embrace the dark knowing its power over the soul, its ability to cleanse us no matter how dirty we are, like a distant magnet, slowly but definitely pulling our dark away, for it only to be brought back in small dosages to teach us of our past, to prepare us for our future. I cling to the night I take pleasure in the possibility of slipping into the wake, I feel comfort in knowing the night might ultimately consume me so that I never see day again, After all when your mind is so clouded that you never truly see the light the only insured thing is the dark. Because at the end of it: all we know there to be is dark, an infinite tide of shadows only seen by those who had been immersed in the shade, by those whose vision had been adjusted to see through the light and the dark, so that they saw the reality of it all, that none of it was forever, that no matter how bright it may seem there’s a shadow somewhere, and no matter how many times you flip the switch not to be awoken by light but to be greeted by more dark there was one that worked somewhere. One that works to scare the terrors of children away, to act as a father’s scythe, to be on and then to leave us pondering When will the lights turn off?