Darkness
Darkness
Darkness is an interesting thing, limitless and yet muted by a vastness we as a species cannot explain. Instinctively we pull away from it, as children screaming in the night, as men hastening past shadowy wood lines. In our ignorance, we have become scholars in the school of avoidance, only accepting the shadows we can control. We leave it to rot in the forgotten places of our daily lives; beneath beds and lurking behind attic doors. And there it waits, patiently, growing thick and palpable. This pitch facilitates our fears, our nightmares, and our imaginations. It is the cold propagator of the universe and the absence of all things, a true enigma.
Our simple minds and sun-fed eyes search for details in the cracks of sidewalks and old men's faces. There is safety in detail; stability reinforced by concrete data. But, the void is formless: a deep well that inspires vertigo and wild thoughts. It is the eternal pool of inspiration and the pit of despair. Perhaps this is why street lamps stamp every corner with light, their high voltage blanketing the stars with the fleeing dark.
We tell ourselves that there are creatures in the night, lurking, waiting to kill. We tell
ourselves that we have defeated nature by blazing fluorescence over our violent instincts. Over-illuminated and unable to turn away, we merely watch as the stampede of minute details bludgeons our minds. The faces of those men, the cracks in those sidewalks, they remain, running wild behind the eyes of sleep-deprived night light watchers. But sleep will come, and with it, those tortured thoughts will dissipate, and the darkness will gently cradle them. A mother and her children together once more. Darkness is an interesting thing.
Our simple minds and sun-fed eyes search for details in the cracks of sidewalks and old men's faces. There is safety in detail; stability reinforced by concrete data. But, the void is formless: a deep well that inspires vertigo and wild thoughts. It is the eternal pool of inspiration and the pit of despair. Perhaps this is why street lamps stamp every corner with light, their high voltage blanketing the stars with the fleeing dark.
We tell ourselves that there are creatures in the night, lurking, waiting to kill. We tell
ourselves that we have defeated nature by blazing fluorescence over our violent instincts. Over-illuminated and unable to turn away, we merely watch as the stampede of minute details bludgeons our minds. The faces of those men, the cracks in those sidewalks, they remain, running wild behind the eyes of sleep-deprived night light watchers. But sleep will come, and with it, those tortured thoughts will dissipate, and the darkness will gently cradle them. A mother and her children together once more. Darkness is an interesting thing.
...
J.M. Rogers
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