It is Friday night and the writing deadline has me lassoed to my desk, staring out into the black black night. I hear rumbles, far off. And then, the sky cracks in half, a streak of light claiming bottom dark from top.
I have been thinking about darkness of late, the realities of sun set and the tomb of night before the coming dawn. I've been watching my senses adjust, my night-time eyes learning to listen to nerve-endings flashing with insight, direction.
The rain is dumping down now, and the thunder shakes my seat.
I am unsettled and afraid.
The lightning though; in darkest night the wild light prevails.
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