Oh, I get it… (again).
This darkness,
this pall of futility,
doesn’t go away,
doesn’t dissolve in the triumphant and undying Light.
There is always Light, and
it is always triumphant and undying…
somewhere.
That is its nature.
But it does not evict darkness from the universe.
So bright is the Light,
it does not even know darkness lives at all,
there,
in the shadows cast by every saint
who takes a body
to chase and be chased by wave after wave that breaks
on the chiaroscuro shores of perception.
We can gaze at the shadow all our life,
until it grows long, as our sun sets.
Or we can feel the sun on our backs and make shadow puppets.
We can futilely kick and wriggle to be free
of the shadow attached to us like Tar Baby,
or we can dance and impel it to dance with us.
It cannot dance unless we do.
If my opacity oppresses me,
I need only change partners a while,
turn skyward and dance with the Light.