Our lives are full of darkness;
cosmic,
medical,
personally unique.
We construct brightness
as a wall against the gloom:
our focus is on shiny,
and our eyes are on the light.
Folk stories tell of Heaven,
or Jannah, or Elysium,
where Light eternal gleams.
We huddle around our campfires,
singing chants
against the dark,
finding comfort with our tribe:
the security of distraction.
If only we would let our eyes
grow accustomed to the murk,
we’d start to see
reality
that has been there all this time.
Drop our need for gloss,
for shine:
let us explore the shadows.
Let us understand
what is
here.
Only then,
when we embrace the dark,
and understand our fear,
can we march into a future
unblinded by the light.
From the top branch
of a dying spruce
two crows surveyed
their domain.
One faced northwest,
the other southeast,
the better to see
likely food.
The man saw the crows,
and wondered.
“One crow sorrow:
two crows joy!”
Or was it the other way around?
He was a little concerned
by the thought.
What could it mean?
Two crows: opposite directions.
Was it a message from god?
From the universe?
Perhaps some departed ancestor
had a grave message
of vital import.
The man was worried,
and breathed a little heavier.
His day darkened,
and the crows remained.
One crow cawed,
once, twice, thrice.
The man looked behind him,
expecting something strange,
something ominous,
to be approaching.
He picked up a rock,
and the crows,
anticipating,
flew away.
The man walked back home,
and spent the rest of his mundane day
fretting, worrying, wondering.
And so it goes:
we seek to bestow all
of life’s encounters
and occurences
with meaning,
arcane and esoteric.
Our egocentric lives
are overwhelmed
by that which we do not understand.
Dwarfed by the endless cosmos,
we build a fire,
fed by our ignorance
and superstition,
to shrink comprehension
to this circle
of fear-fed light,
and to keep our gaze
from eternal night.
