The dark,
Sweeps over the ocean’s face
From shore to horizon it crawls,
Cool and misty, caressing the carcass of an abandoned carrier ship
-Caught in a storm
Of apocalyptic magnitude
That once held the quietest of bodies
With the loudest hope
The dark,
Penetrates the monastery
Licking the candles to cast flickering folds upon the walls
Here it finds sanctuary,
Until the sun rises to vanquish its residence
And it hides in every crease and in every cavernous body.
The dark,
Says little
But if the whole being listens,
It will swallow and carry the wayfarer through time;
Both pausing and propelling a process,
In the most paradoxical of ways.
It will provide nightmares and tremors in those who remember their bedtime stories,
But shelter and safety for those who travel by the mask of night.
It will provide war for nocturnal species,
And rest for the ones who’ve breached the dimension and travel beyond.
The dark,
Will always be there.
And to fall into its depths
Is to find the beginning,
The time before knowing,
To let go of illusions and disillusions,
To let go of preconceived identity,
To fall into the depths of what is without light,
And to emerge,
It is to be given the opportunity to see the light that shines the brightest.
And transcend former ideas of clarity.
The dark,
Will always be there,
And the light will always come.
While you and I travel,
Suspended and spinning,
A blink against the dark void
That stretches infinitely,
Beyond and throughout.
And when the light comes,
The dark remains, in the shadows and in the pockets.
And within; and thus, we are ever chasing the light,
Like a cure to our cold
The answer to the question we did not know how to ask in any other way but to fall.
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