AS night intrudes, pushing day past the boundaries of heaven we are left to reminisce on the colors woven in the heavens. Another day escapes this veracious bully with appetites for shadow, sinister repose and the recesses of sinful pursuit. In the wee frozen moments passed midnight the beasts of darkness seek pray, purchase and passion before wakened by the morn. The doe see doe of dawn rekindles the hunt for righteousness and the healing hand of warmth and light upon the hearts of men.

Left to the dark in reflection and prayerful recounting we no longer accept the offered fear and panic raiment to silence the joyful songs of passion. Though the dark each day forgotten the light shines forth within each heart, mind, soul and strength. Untarnished, unrestrained, spirit alive in disregard of night. Free to be warmed and fed dreaming of the morrow, where light once again illuminates in wisdom all those who anticipate the Truth.

The turning away to call itself pure wisdom is to ignore that water is wet and fire hot. The potency in deception found in dismissal of those things which may never be dismissed in open regard of verity. To have joy one may not find it through consummation of splendor or destruction of hope and courage, but in the reward of these simple august pleasures. To measure life in worth and understanding rather then gold or castle’s kept. What makes of men the thing which surpasses our forgetting. To make marks beyond the simple divinations of import or power’s place in aggression or conquer. But to the finer moments of fragility and faith found in men who tender their belief investing in those things defined in everlasting.

What then is the joy of nights sweet splendor, coming to quench the day’s work, toil and sweat? To delight in sweet reflection on the earnings, will and expense of this day lived for Life hereafter or for the claws of dirt’s turning. The eagle swept the river searching for that talon full and this delight was etched upon each mind and eye beholding. Not for caution or doubt found in darkness, nor for sadness of memories lost by the coming of silken nightshades but the power of a day lived worth remembering, in hope of tomorrow’s offer.

How Sweet the night when one loves not the darkness, but resides in the reflecting pond of gifts rendered by Light and Life.