I go Into The Black
By Marilyn Kortemeier
I go into the Black sometimes because I know the way so well.
At first it is a gentle black.
But it is cold.
It is really never comforting, just famaliar.
Then I go to the deeper black.
It is colder, unforgiving.
Then I go into the deepest black of all.
It is very cold, very unforgiving.
It is the hardest of all.
Then I see reflected, a tiny light.
What is it. I want it.
I reach for it. But my hand is only met by hard cold blackness.
I turn to see, where is It coming from?
It is there, just a tiny little light.
I begin to move towards it.
I’m going back, through the middle black
Back through the light black.
And the light gets bigger.
I come to a dark shade of white.
It’s warmer here.
It is comforting here.
The light is bigger now.
I go to an even lighter shade of white.
It is warmer here, more comforting
There are hands here.
They reach out and help me along my way.
I go to an even brighter light.
It is all comforting here.
And yet, there is a tiny bit of blackness there.
I look at the darkness and decide.
I don’t want to go. I’m happier here.
I stay, it’s superior to the black.
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