A dying beacon

Within the blackest of dark night,

black and sightless,

A slight and distant spark glows boldly though the abyss.

Exploding forward and outward in all direction,

Banishing the darkness further into the great void.

Even the weakest of flicker can appear awesome in contrast to the black of the dark night.

Even a pale and dying glimmer that never should have been  can illuminate the open blank space, creating shadow and form out of the nothingness that surrounds and walls this well of emptiness.

Haste, reckless and imprudent, is the fuel that feeds the scramble  for refuge within the warming radiance .

Brilliant and blinding it seems.

Casting the dark and black of night away.

Elation and exaltation.

Jubilant and full of ecstasy.

Blinded by the luminous glowing and sedated by the comforting warmth.

Unnoticed, the regaining and creeping blackness moves even closer, like a thrown blanket falling from overhead,blotting out the sunny skies on summer’s fairest day.

With a near silent whisper, soft and gently subtle, the wind breaths a faint sigh.

Suddenly, without the slightest shutter or a fleeting shimmer, the light is gone.

Extinguished from existence.

Devoured by the coveting dreary gloom.

It is gone.

Alone and black once again.

Frigid and striking to the bone.

The chill tightens the skin and constricts the breathing.

Once more, it is black.