Variations on Black

Black, like my soul! (Maniacal laughter ensues.) Bwahahahahahaha!

For real? The sun is shining, the birds are singing (well, the gulls are screaming, they’re sort of birds, or at least very small flying dinosaurs, it counts!), I have nothing to do today, I can laze about in my pjs, I can go for a lovely walk later on,  I’m having smoked salmon on soda bread for lunch, and all the cups of tea I want, I have a new book to read, and finally some mental capacity left to do it, and you want me to think about “black”? That’s not on daily prompt…

(Some time later, after lunch, a walk and buying of Harry Potter themed underpants – I can now be a witch in my pants and no one will know! That sounded dirty… It wasn’t meant to sound dirty…)

Black is the underside of my life. Like a lining to an otherwise colourful and cozy coat. Sometimes it gets flipped over, I wear it inside out, and for a while I’m walking around swathed in darkness. Black is always present to some degree, even if you can’t see it, I know it’s still there. And mostly it’s ok. You need it for contrast. For the light and the colours to shine all the brighter.

Black is the dungeon part of myself. The endless corridors, and vast unfriendly caves, filled with blood-thirsty monstrosities. There are traps, and the ground can open into the abyss if you don’t watch carefully where you go, and let’s face it, who does that all the time? Odds are, at some point you will fall in. But how else do you get to see the dragons?

Black are the creatures that dim out the stars. They lie in wait, reach for me with smoky dark tendrils as I pass by and weave their cold deceptions into my brain.

Black are my thoughts after pointless anger burns them out.

Black are the words on the page, the ones I read and the ones I write. Black contains all the possible and impossible universes. All adventures that were, are, will, could or couldn’t be.

Black is the cloudy and velvety night in the wilderness, or deep countryside, where no light pollutes the horizon, and all is sound and air on your face, and you don’t fight it with a lamp, but peacefully dissolve into dark.

Black is the space in between the dreams. A moment to take a breath and hold it in, and hope for a peaceful flight.DSC_1190

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