The dark is generous.
Its first gift is concealment: our true faces lie in the dark beneath
our skins, our true hearts remain shadowed deeper still. But the greatest
concealment lies not in protecting our secret truths, but in hiding from
us the truths of others.
The dark protects us from what we dare not know.
Its second gift is comforting illusion: the ease of gentle dreams in
night's embrace, the beauty that imagination brings to what would repel
in day's harsh light. But the greatest of its comforts is the illusion
that the dark is temporary: that every night brings a new day. Because it
is day that is temporary.
Day is the illusion.
Its third gift is the light itself: as days are defined by the
nights that divide them, as stars are defined by the infinite black
through which they wheel, the dark embraces the light, and brings it
forth from the center of its own self.
With each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins.