Dark horizons

Last night, quiet and spiritless shadows wrapped around me.

They stopped me for a moment and asked me, Are you happy, child?

A tristful sough slid into the air, slow and truthful. A confession I didn’t mean, an answer I didn’t expect.

I’m not happy. The answer was known. The shadows hugged me among murmurations of reassurance. A higher easement unfolded as I understood that this was not a bad answer. Why, having all that I need, why, enjoying all that I have, don’t I feel happy? Misery lies at bay and I see no proximate decay or death in nearby shores. Why, then, can’t I feel happy?

It’s all those spikes at the end of the petals, those muddy tears that spray fresh pink roses with tainted refreshment. It’s the fact that I can’t light up other skies with the same voltage as before. My arms have grown shorter, my heart smaller and my core rougher. And a liquid sensation of relief bathed me, because just realizing I’m not happy means that I aspire to more. I crave so much more. The ground I’m standing on won’t turn to quicksands because I choose to. Let there me enlightenment.

But first, let there be darkness, let there be shadows and let them tease me. I will walk to that lonely beach of eternal night. I will sit on the cool sand and close my eyes, spread my arms and I will make dimness mine. I will own the dark, I will inhale the deeper shades around me. And there will be the moon, bright dot at the end of nightfall. I want to be blinded when sunshine comes.

Sunshine will come to me.

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