long have i stood at the doors of darkness,
waiting for light to give me permission to enter, or even to push me
through. then one day i found myself –
though i hadn’t moved – in darkness. and
i knew then that darkness roams, seeking, and if one wishes darkness all one
has to do is wait.
darkness levels, equalizes,
democratizes. and so it is little wonder
of the rarity of equality, the paucity of democracy, when darkness is equated
with death.
darkness is doubt, and should doubt feel like
death in this epoch of knowledge, isn’t this related in part to the ferocity
and confidence of truth in its new linguistic clothes?
who hasn’t uttered upon noticing the
preponderance of white on a page of text and yet it is the blackness that we
read?
love, dissettled bird, sentimental sword, is
of darkness and hides in light, and anyone who would love would first travel on
this path of possessing and masking.
we have images of fire at the onset and
demise of consciousness – at least that instilled to its present degree in
humanity – as barriers of light between the darknesses of eternity and the darknesses
of seeing, films of beginnings and endings hardly screened in the pitch of the
universe’s vast and empty theatre.
i am a curious son of darkness, it
has been said. and – a curious son of light? no. a
curious child is always of the seed of darkness.
i am necessarily indifferent to the
sufferings of the world, unless they be prosthetics of my flesh. should i confront this necessity with the
only force capable of encountering it – hardly light – the prosthetics fall
away and i become darkness, and my death is as indifferent as the world’s.
how beautiful is the nudity of darkness. light clothes everything.
so darkness
is the edenic dream, and light the fall into society’s bottomless analytic well.
darkness, rather than copulating with light,
maintains a wardrobe of light’s fashions.
darkness copulates with nothing and light only with itself.
if darkness was once denial of flesh and is
now flesh’s fulfillment, what is light’s trajectory?
everything interesting happens at night; day
exists only as a place to tell night’s stories.
what is sex other than night seeking night
through day, and failing.
there is always a darkness below (in, above,
around) the opposition between light and darkness that is the same as light;
the path to it though is a path of darkness.
when the nightmares of day are accomplished
and i am permitted to return to my natural habitat of horizontality and
darkness, i breathe with the breath of eternity, my true life of dreams
commences, and the substances of hallucination are intravenously fed into the
conglomerates of my flesh-soul. time
then is the joke it was meant to be, the ponderous politics of the human some
rapidly dispelling flatulence, and money an annoying fly i just smacked on my
face.
a human who inhabits darkness detaches itself
from modes of production and there, away, becomes perpetually open to being
created – form of formlessness and nothing manifesting but the open.
darkness is a human oriented with more or
less equal measure to the languages that seem to emerge from within it and
those that seem to confront it from without.
darkness could be said to be the confusion that results from a
persistent uncertainty about the source
of the myriad languages. does this
darkness change, in some psychic alchemical sense perhaps, to light as one
becomes comfortable with the confusion?
but if i become comfortable, am i listening, or has comfort become a
dominant voice? i remain in the doubt of
myself – a doubt some might say is a dominance – and this is darkness.
darkness is the voices of form, its drought
and flood.
i am in love with darkness. the passages and shapes of light – its
assertions – are to me dark’s rough categories, beckonings toward night.
darkness is the space that can be entered
after use does not lose its use but rather takes its place in the domains of
uselessness.
in darkness i work with whatever materials
are at hand – weakness, wealth, poverty, power, betrayal, fragmentation,
loyalty, unity – and darkness teaches me to be equally adept with all materials
and tools, for the universe in its reaches knows no hierarchies – or rather,
knows all hierarchies and knows that within this knowledge each subverts the
other and is true to itself. through the
vastness of these truths, weakness and strength are equally powerful,
impecuniousness and riches equally abundant.
darkness is democracy.
