beach of night.

there is nothing but darkness here.

darkness in the sky. 

darkness under the feet. tangible darkness. 

little grainy pebbles of darkness that slide between the fingers that try to hold them.

its ominous and foreboding. a slump of world with no sun to guide the lost. 

and so its inhabitants wonder without purpose. without cause. thus, they are a meaningless people. 

but few find reason. what they cannot see, they hear. 

life crashing against the darkness somewhere far off into the unseen.

following nothing but their own desire to see something, to know something, to find the world anew, they wonder purposefully.  on a mission. 

following sounds. learning the texture of that which blinds them. that which binds them. 

their heavy, unremovable dark is bearable but old and unfulfilling. 

these that seek the other find something more.

amidst the unrelenting nothingness, they find the ocean.

an ocean of light. bright, inviting, cutting light. it covers the black ground with a crash to prove its worth and power just to recede to show its slow hand to anger.

the thirsty find this lake of light and submerge themselves within never to be seen by the night again.  some sink to the bottom and touch the black soil beneath. some float at the top. others swim around simply elated to know something other than nothingness. 

here we can see everything. we are not blind. we are not ignorant. our light cuts the night. it is our beacon. it is our refuge. we are no longer lost for this light has shown us everything. it holds life. it is life.

oh, me? i walk atop the lake of light, for someone must bring the thirsty to the drink.