The night is a mysterious and emotionally powerful time. Sometimes I would feel that in the dark I could do anything. This is a short piece about the strength of the night and the emotions which surge and flow where man cannot look.
The dark within — January 11, 2002
The moon has risen, bright, full, enticing; dripping with the promise of a thousand dreams. My heart thumps in my chest, my spirits rise, anxious to join the throng worshipping the beauty I can see before me.
I can feel the power of the night. It surges within me as clear as the roaring of the savage lion on the savannah. I am, instantly, part of a much larger world than I ever imagined. I feel at once as large as a world and as small as a mouse.
I lie on my back as I feel slightly dizzy watching the dance of the lights in the sky -- I am one of those lights, I can feel the air ripping past my skin, the sound of the ocean of the sky in my ears.
I overflow with love, a love for the solitude and the company I find myself in. For those who are worshipping alongside me I feel a true cameraderie.
Time means nothing to me now, I could lie here for a million years and it would pass me by in a second. I can see it, the time, slipping past me. I reach out and grasp a tendril, hold it for a second or ten. My hand feels strong enough to crush rocks, yet weak enough to be torn by the very act of being moved.
Slowly the sun rises, the night stolen away by the first rays of gold. My fellows and I rise, wandering back to the town. I am filled with wonder, and a respect for what I have felt this night.
As the light brightens, I begin to feel lost, I no longer feel secure and safe. As I return home, I finally look inwards, smiling as one would to a lover returned, I finally learn to see the dark within.