no. 60 // when i was dancing with darkness

you can hear it lingering in your mind. nothing is stranger, this tug you’re beginning to feel in your soul between this new light you want to explore and the darkness that knows you so well…

your footsteps fall softly on the ground
darkness has fallen asleep.

terrified, you look up, your face to the brightest, gentlest light you’ve ever experienced. it warms you in a way you’ve never felt.

then it hits. a sting. you look down at your bruises and they’ve come to life with color. you rush to hide them when the light flares, blinding you.

in a split second, the bruises have faded, your garments of shame and blackness of the dark have been traded for a delicate white comfort that sings of peace. you didn’t know fabric could do that.

the light begins to dance around you and you can’t help but twirl, a joy and peace hanging on your shoulders, the easiest weight to carry.

you don’t notice the scars healed up, and the bruises have all but left, the tiniest veins of purple and yellow left as reminders.

darkness has stirred. she’s calling you. her voice is only a whisper, but you can hear it lingering in your mind. nothing is stranger, this tug you’re beginning to feel in your soul between this new light you want to explore and the darkness that knows you so well.

slowly you turn around, you walk towards darkness, your feet stepping on the black earth of her domain, its color a stark contrast to the white you’re now wearing. but the shadows, they begin to dance too.

the movements are dramatic, tight and rigid. a stiffness that feels caged, like it knows it is not freedom.

you join in with darkness. she thinks she has won.

light has another thing planned.

the cave you’ve walked back to begins to shake. you look away from darkness; her grip grows stronger. your eyes find the light, they find the softness and the joy, they see it. the grip of darkness is slipping. her screams grow quieter.

the cave dissipates. you’re in a cell.

you shake your head. the light is still there, but darkness is gone. you wonder why you’re here. carefully you venture out of the opened door. a wave of brightness overwhelms your senses and you breathe a sigh of relief.

light has returned to dance with you, you think.

light is desperate for you to know it never left.

you dance with light, a sweet and tender joy between you. it seems the dance will go one forever.

and then you hear her. darkness.

at first it is easy to ignore, light is enthralling. but darkness is persistent. she beckons you to come back to your cell. you belong there she says. do you not remember the sip? the taste? the touch?

you are broken and bruised and shadows are the only place for you.

your eyes drop from light and find the remnants of your scars, the colors of your bruises. light cups your face and tries to get you to look back up. but all your eyes see are the ugliness of what is on your skin. you pull away, afraid of meeting light’s gaze. you are not worthy of such beauty, you think.

you let go, and you run back to your cell, collapsing against the wall, your tears heating your face.

you hear darkness laugh in the distance. her work is done.

a shadow begins to drift across the cell wall and your eyes trace it to the door where you’re surprised to find light standing in the doorway. you hadn’t even noticed it was there.

a whimper escapes from your lips, tears of shame beginning to fall. you don’t want to taint it with your hideousness. light comes closer.

you shrink further into the corner. you beg it to help you but also to stay away because it shouldn’t be there.

it comes closer.

you’re screaming now. you don’t want to ruin it. as it gets closer, it extends it’s hands and through your tears you see that it’s wrists are scarred and bloody. your eyes cannot believe it, something so beautiful baring something so gruesome.

it sits down beside you, and begins to tell you a story of a great love, one that shook the earth to make sure all who knew it would know freedom. your soul begins to feel warmth again, just like when you first met light.

light grabs your hands and holds them to it’s face. light tells you that it wants you to stay with it outside the cell. it has a great thing to show you when you leave. your soul begins to soar; hope flutters in.

then it’s face grows solemn. you begin to fear that the offer has something you must do, something unattainable. light breathes deeply.

“I will never leave you, no matter how many times you come back here. You are dressed in my clothes. You are covered in my abilities, and you will never need to do any more for me to love you. When you run back to this cell, which you will do even though you don’t have to, please remember that I will follow you. I will retell my story to you, and I will wrap you up. You will never stain me.”

new tears fill your eyes. you follow light out. as the years go by, you do find yourself in the cell again. but you never forget light’s promise.

light will come for you. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

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