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Of light and dark
There have been a multitude of studies about light.
Being a “pure” element it is a popular thing to dedicate one’s life towards. Poets flock to it, the so called good adore it, it’s the crux of philosophy’s modern and outré.
But romanticization aside, illumination is a fascinating thing.
It’s speed, weight, hue, the manipulation there-of. That is the thing of thesis. The intelligent (dare I say enlightened?) have found ways to harness it as an infinite energy source. Born of combustion, it brushes against infinity despite holding to such a mundane origin.
For it is the source of life, it drives life’s cycles, there is no life on any world without light.
Deprived of natural illumination men make it synthetically.
Deprived of it either in artifice or actuality men, like water, stagnate, slow, sicken, die.
Yet, what of dark?
It is the cliché of villains, the tawdry sinister adore it and are adorned by it. And yet, like its “benign” kin it is as necessary as anything else. Souls do not close eyes to light only to be fully immersed in illumination at day’s end.
Dreams born of day are hardly restful things. Dreams of day are at best ambitions given fancy’s cloak and leave to stroll, at worse… they are madness and worse than mad.
Sleep in illuminations’ clasp is tentative, a fleeting thing wrought with anxiety.
There is a passive surrender that the dark demands. And when command isn’t heeded, it takes at a time of its own choosing.
Also, it differs in its kin in matters of intensity. Born of flame, light has some of fire’s warmth and more of its warping efforts. Granted, this mainly remains on a cellular level, but it still remains that too much light can be cancerous.
Yet rampant dark causes slowdowns of the natural process, a languid kind of rot.
Both are necessary of life, both carry aspects of death.
Yet illumination remains upon its pedestal and the shadows are ever eschewed.
To the intellectual mind, this... popularization… of such elemental aspects remains one of life’s many mysteries and frustrations.
Of light and dark
There have been a multitude of studies about light.
Being a “pure” element it is a popular thing to dedicate one’s life towards. Poets flock to it, the so called good adore it, it’s the crux of philosophy’s modern and outré.
But romanticization aside, illumination is a fascinating thing.
It’s speed, weight, hue, the manipulation there-of. That is the thing of thesis. The intelligent (dare I say enlightened?) have found ways to harness it as an infinite energy source. Born of combustion, it brushes against infinity despite holding to such a mundane origin.
For it is the source of life, it drives life’s cycles, there is no life on any world without light.
Deprived of natural illumination men make it synthetically.
Deprived of it either in artifice or actuality men, like water, stagnate, slow, sicken, die.
Yet, what of dark?
It is the cliché of villains, the tawdry sinister adore it and are adorned by it. And yet, like its “benign” kin it is as necessary as anything else. Souls do not close eyes to light only to be fully immersed in illumination at day’s end.
Dreams born of day are hardly restful things. Dreams of day are at best ambitions given fancy’s cloak and leave to stroll, at worse… they are madness and worse than mad.
Sleep in illuminations’ clasp is tentative, a fleeting thing wrought with anxiety.
There is a passive surrender that the dark demands. And when command isn’t heeded, it takes at a time of its own choosing.
Also, it differs in its kin in matters of intensity. Born of flame, light has some of fire’s warmth and more of its warping efforts. Granted, this mainly remains on a cellular level, but it still remains that too much light can be cancerous.
Yet rampant dark causes slowdowns of the natural process, a languid kind of rot.
Both are necessary of life, both carry aspects of death.
Yet illumination remains upon its pedestal and the shadows are ever eschewed.
To the intellectual mind, this... popularization… of such elemental aspects remains one of life’s many mysteries and frustrations.
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