A great light was gathering above his head,
even as he sunk further down into sleep.
In his dream, the light was that part of him
which was still awake. It never slept.
The darkness is all-pervasive,
so light can’t afford that luxury.
We can sleep, we can dream,
we can pretend there is plenty of time,
time to casually meander through the dark
with our lanterns, our flashlights, casting shadows
which then gather together to form a life, our life.
When the great light begins to gather itself
above our heads, shadows shrink and flee
like small feeding animals of the night,
escaping the rumor of morning.
Here is something to ponder — the great light
has no origin, it is also beyond our control.
We are pieces of that same light, pieces
of darkness too — one fits into the other
seamlessly, even as we sleep.
When we awaken, those light and dark pieces
are like ideas which we have ceased to entertain.
They somehow become obsolete, like all ideas,
like all the words on which we relied to describe
the world — empty words that no longer apply.
Though the great light still shines over our head,
and the darkness is all-pervasive, we realize now
we are truly alone, alone without description.