Home Tour: Antwerp Historic

Let me start by talking about my courier, the Night.

Since it entails many more possibilities, uncoils many more dimensions, leaves many more footprints, a night is always bigger than its day. A day might be a promissory note but night is a lottery ticket. A day stammers loudly but a night remains married to whispers. Days can leak moments but nights always cumulate time. 

And then at the center of the realm of night is me, yours truly, The Darkness. 

You know that I can be gathered but never cultivated. I can be absorbed but never tamed. I can be killed but never contained. 
However O day dweller, O worshiper of rising sun, I am frequently misunderstood and unnecessarily feared by you; I have been routinely equated with ignorance, regress and danger; so I want to cut through light’s propaganda of painting me black and make proper introductions today. 

First let me tell you why is light jealous of me. Light got its day in the sun when it was mistakenly deemed as the fastest travelling thing. It indeed does not have the swiftest of physical carriage. I have that honor. I reach anywhere before light does and then wait for it to arrive. Finally when the light does land up in all its pomp, I being a gracious winner, accommodate. I make space for it. Fully aware of its lethargy, light knows it cannot outrun me. Counting on my traditional silence it has constructed this winning narrative though at heart it is insecure of its fragile luminosity. 

Then, do you know, I am the infinite reservoir of archetypal yet living energy. What is reveled to you in your day is but a fraction of what is available with me in my layers. My dark energy though can only be groped, one slither at a time. This is because you cannot harness it for productivity. You must overcome your visibility bias to feel its charge; to commune with it; for cathartic nourishment. 

Next have you noticed that anything that is deep is dark.Peer inside a well and you are staring at darkness. Deeper you dive inside an ocean, darker it gets there. So know that unless there is some darkness in a soul, it is being superficial. It is a soul which is unaware of itself ; is constructing pleasant fiction, a make-believe world of rainbows and raiment to gloss over its lack of anchor. So unless you honor my presence in your own soul, you will be devoid of my gifts. 

Talking of gifts, one of the best gifts to give anyone is of me. Know when you gift darkness to someone it is actually an invite to a life adventure. Shadows, you see, are puppets constructed from the clay of darkness. As they learn the projection and play of shadows by manipulating resident light, a world which resides on the cusp, opens up for them. The stories that these shadows narrate might be the tales they long to hear but were always scared to ask. 

Lastly let me talk about my beauty. Light is good, upright but predictable and boring. I on the other hand am full of mystique and mystery. It rejoices in its revelations as I celebrate my eternal intrigues. It walks straight to the point while I dance tantalizingly on the curves. Most of you are bat blind to my charms though I am the lovers ally, poets delight and nightman’s watch. Wake up to realize that with light you only learn dry admiration while with me you taste intricate love. 

O Misguided ones, spread your arms and embrace me too, as I beckon you today. I seldom invite twice.