When your darkness becomes your protective inner dragon whom is the servant of love, bound in duty to obey the light, the darkness becomes the most soft of black velvets illuminated by heaven-spun stars.
When you are willing to shine a light upon your darkness and make it submissive to the light, you are reborn a hero.
When the world has become a pencil drawing, a masterpiece on the easel of the creator, I await for it to fade to black and arise anew. It is as if the nightfall were the curtains closing, and the dawn were their opening each day, the birds singing on cue with their beautiful serenade. While others sleep through the dying of the light, my task is to remain awake and witness its rebirth, to see how the pencil sketch becomes the greatest of high definition movies. As the blackness comes I calmly watch myself be erased, eyes open and seeing nothing at all, the only evidence of my being is the steady thump of my heart and the cool air in my lungs.
Darkness comes as strong protective arms, holding us close until the promised dawn. Within it we are as children once more, safe in shields of duvet. Yet in this place so open to the skies, resting in the cricket's lullaby, our eyes are as bright as the constellations above; our stardust atoms seeking the stars until they can bathe in the light of the sun.
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