Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
— Mark Twain
There is a darkness that I like to ignore.
And yet in the quiet, in the solitary moments when the world fades away and I am alone with my thoughts, this darkness is as familiar as a childhood tune.
There is a darkness I don’t want you to see.
So I wear masks and play games. I manipulate and maneuver behind the scenes so that you will think my life is pristine and unmarred by the vagaries that plague every one of us.
There is a darkness that eats at me.
Like a nest of termites silently devouring me from the inside, it feeds on my fear and worry and shame, only breeding further darkness.
There is a darkness inside me.
The darkness without is so much easier to deal with than the darkness within. But so often I scream at the darkness in others, condemning with my attitudes and words and actions. And yet this serves only to feed my own darkness.
There is a light that shines in my darkness.
The darkness runs like the last ice hides from the sunlight in the shadows, desperately clinging to the cover of the cool shade. But it cannot escape.
There is a light that warms my soul.
It does not burn or sear as my fear would suggest. Instead it runs to me, embracing me in loving arms like a father welcomes his son home from a long, wayward journey.
There is a light that brings order from my chaos.
It exposes my worry and fear and shame as useless lies that only serve to keep me chained and alone. Like a flower growing in rocky soil, it makes beautiful things rise up from my mess.
There is a darkness within me, but the light is greater.
Thanks be to the Light.