I like the Light, but I love the Dark. Light is wonderful: bright and full of Hope; but every once in a while; too penetrating. And the Dark I like is not the silent, murky one with wild shadows or howling wolves; but the soft, royal one. Like the Night Sky: where the Moon flirts and the stars twinkle in response. And the looming figure of a Tree rises, trying to reach high up, to hear the joke that begets the wordless mirth high above.
And the Sea: so vast, stretching beyond the horizon; wise; lapping at the banks like a faithful dog; and yet so magnificent: the King’s terrier, waits patiently for its verdict. Against the royal velvet of the sky, it bows: kneeling before the moon.
Then the Moon says ‘Rise!’ and it tries to reach up; to adhere to the orders of the Black Royalty.
The Moon laughs and the stars twinkle again. High above, on the royal velvet of Black, they shimmer like diamonds and jewels; beyond anything mortal or disgraceful. The Sea tries to hear, and the Tree enjoys the wordless mirth. The mirth sounds like the tinkling and the chiming of jewelry and wind chimes, the clink of glasses, and a low chuckle.
The Tree tries to stretch up higher, to hear a word of the conspiracy taking place above. It tries quietly, then loudly, then louder still, till it is waving it branches madly. All its hands creak and the wind assists it. The stars look down and tinkle mischievously again at the rage of the Tree.
The wind loses mind. It ravishes the Tree, the Sea, and the Land. It tries to drown the sound from above: the sound of the image of the Sky. It goes about in circles like a mad bull. It wails its plaint into the ears of the people walking by. They ignore the Wind, the Sea, and the Sky! The Wind becomes enraged still.
They cover their ears and walk by.
The Wind gets angrier.
The stars twinkle.
The moon winks.
Somewhere, a baby smiles in his dream as Angels sing him to sleep.