It was with stubborn indignation that made me look into the abyss, but hindsight would not have
made much difference.
It was a curse and strength, merged into a quality something different.

The danger was never peering in, nor of something or someone peering out, but of looking
away.
You see its the fascination...for darkness is not without presence, form or shape. Not when
the imagination kicks into overdrive, like some kind of primitive safety measure, designed
to prevent synaptic vacuum and the iterative curve into madness.

Darkness is ever moving, ever-flowing. The rush of silent waves in a constant race, the journey's end
on the horizon, ever elusive but beckoning like a siren upon the rocks.

The darkness is not without colour also. In recent times it has always looked vermillion, a gaping crimson smile,
a tormenting cheshire cat, bloodied toothless grin to look upon.
The black is also blue, and white and grey....colours merging across the spectrum with frightening ferocity,
till the backs of your eyes burn with mercy and the hollowness of your vision threatens to cave in.

Black is the colour of human nature, not in a morbid or pessimistic line of thought, but its the opposite
of a fresh canvas, already tainted by centuries of conditioning and civilization until the epitomy
of society are nothing more than moronic sheep, a paint-by-numbers race lacking hope or drive.

The primordial soup of creation is black in my mind, imperfection burned into the DNA. Marked for life.


To hold hope in your hands..atleast to hope to hold...