All things are sharper than before, broken things are merely broken and no longer dangerous.
The peripheries are visible, we can mark the risks.
The air is charged with things that could have been but weren't, dangers or losses that were endured or never suffered. Things smell cleansed and electric.
Old trails are washed away. History gets a small sense of erasure.
Things look different when light comes.
Their cracks and crevices, and my own as well.
Things look True.
In that first cold light of morning, it is hard not to pity the things that need the may-be.
Now reduced in size and scope, still dangerous
but not unknown.
Light is invasive, it is far more unforgiving than the Darkness. Darkness is full of could-be, Light is filled with is.
It takes talent to hide in Light, a trick we have learned here at the House.
Do not mistake the Light for warmth, we use it for what it is.
Tonight, when the day slips through the cracks of time and night overtakes our patch of land again, it will not have the heaviness of the Darkness, which grinds its gears, perambulating on its way with those who choose to keep it close. It will return to being Somewhen Else, and here it will only be night.
Tonight we will sing a softer song to offer up to the Universe. I will sing again for the Darkness. I will wish it whatever darkling peace it can be bestowed and honor its elsewhen claim. Someone needs to and the Darkness used to be mine. It still cannot abide here. It has no right to the Now.
We do not belong to the Darkness.
We do not belong to the Light.
Either one will have to get through me. I will protect those that are mine. I will sometimes waver, but I will win. We are prepared.
Here at the House, we are standing, and we are still our own.