| Shades of Darkness Not just one |
| Author: Minnie Rating: PG Category: Essay/Original composition Notes: Please do not archive elsewhere without permission. It started with the words "shades of darkness". Then came a whole lot of other words. For my mother who's shown me the light. Archive Date: 1/15/2001 Darkness. Most people only see it in one shade. A shade of black looming before them, engulfing them with its unholy glow. They don’t see its colors, its infinitesimal hues. When the sun starts to lay into slumber, darkness arises with soft intensity, blanketing the horizon with smoky mist. When the mist clears, blackness gleams, rich and pure, as though newborn. Hushed voices rally to hold the darkness back, dumping fear, paranoia and all sorts of loathsome emotions onto it, in an effort to keep it in check. Pledged voices add their might, decrying its presence. Despite its tarnished and sullied reputation, it pushes on, fingers gripping tightly on the world it now possesses. As darkness settles, a thousand stars reverse their course, drawing themselves inward to release the deep holes that thrive in their core and plunging the world into a sightless, seamless mass. It is beautiful, this darkness, this pure absence of light, this nothingness. For it means one can no longer be anything but simply a part of it. No pain, no life, no love, nothing. Just being. Just darkness. Fearful voices raise out against it, the cries now almost deafening, but the darkness hears none of this. The crescendo fails, dragging its sorrowful notes away. It cannot overpower the simplicity of the void. But as all cycles go, even the perfect darkness can not stay long. Light rages against it, its voice not cowed as heated allies replenish its strength. The light corrupts the black’s blissful state, strong-arming it into submission, flooding it with the intensity of righteousness. Darkness weakens gradually, exhausted by the knowledge it cannot exist forever without its natural enemy, the ebullient light. Strange thing to be defined by one’s enemy. Without the light, there would be no opposing darkness, no crass counterpoint. So the dark gives way, gives itself another shade, that being a slight pallor of itself. Light sees its acquiescence and filters through, its small rays beaming to herald the coming of dawn. Dawn. The death of darkness. The coming of light. It is only then that people see shades. Voices blare and cheer at the tangle of colors now pushing before them. They wonder at light's myriad of mysteries, composing odes and sonnets to it in a vain attempt to puff up its already overweening pride. Meanwhile, darkness slinks off with nary a cheer. -End- HOME MUSINGS ETCETERA |