Sometimes I ache in the dark. I'm not someone who lays awake pondering this or that. I spend enough of my time in the day doing that. But sometimes, I ache in the dark of a soul's night, wondering. Not the dark of depression or anxiety. The dark of night. The dark that broods of hope. Night is not a time of fear, for me, though I still sometimes have nightmares. Night speaks of dawn to come, of the overcoming of the darkness by that first shimmer in the east. The moment, imperceptible but somehow discernible all the same, when the sky begins shade by shade to lighten, hours before the sun actually breaks in a splash of blinding light over the horizon, night is conquered. And the shadows never truly reined supreme. In every night, no matter how dark, starlight glimmers, high above any wrack of obscuring cloud, and though we cannot see it, conquers the darkness.
And so when I ache in the dark, it is a blackness that has been tinged already by the echoes of a dawn to come, pricked apart by needles of light that speak of a greater light of like kind but far greater. I ache for dawn. When it comes, with fanfare immortal, it will once and for all end the grip of darkness.
I ache because there is much to be done in preparation for the dawn. I ache because all around, unconcerned, sleep those who were called to wait beside me for the dawn. I ache because the coming sunrise will be more glorious than anyone can imagine. I ache because instead of wakeful, the watchers-called lie slumbering. I ache because the wakeful ones all too often wait alone. I ache because I yearn to see it break awesome over the edge of the world and forever banish night.
The dark itself troubles me not at all. My sorrow is for the pitied ones who think this darkness light, who think it bright enough. The dark will pass away, and those who have called it light will by the light be blinded. The night will be no more, and those who call it day will have their faith rewarded.
All will have their faith rewarded. A faith in night will night receive. A faith in light will light receive. The light makes all clear, exposes every lie, searches out the depths in every eye, eliminates forever fear.
The light of the world is coming. And I ache in the dark... to see it come.
And so when I ache in the dark, it is a blackness that has been tinged already by the echoes of a dawn to come, pricked apart by needles of light that speak of a greater light of like kind but far greater. I ache for dawn. When it comes, with fanfare immortal, it will once and for all end the grip of darkness.
I ache because there is much to be done in preparation for the dawn. I ache because all around, unconcerned, sleep those who were called to wait beside me for the dawn. I ache because the coming sunrise will be more glorious than anyone can imagine. I ache because instead of wakeful, the watchers-called lie slumbering. I ache because the wakeful ones all too often wait alone. I ache because I yearn to see it break awesome over the edge of the world and forever banish night.
The dark itself troubles me not at all. My sorrow is for the pitied ones who think this darkness light, who think it bright enough. The dark will pass away, and those who have called it light will by the light be blinded. The night will be no more, and those who call it day will have their faith rewarded.
All will have their faith rewarded. A faith in night will night receive. A faith in light will light receive. The light makes all clear, exposes every lie, searches out the depths in every eye, eliminates forever fear.
The light of the world is coming. And I ache in the dark... to see it come.
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