. . . this thing of darkness . . . (a channelling)

(cornellextension)

What if it were to come to pass --

the passage no one

wants to imagine:

a massive                 

                            short circuit,

and all the lights

all over the earth

go out.

Even the sun

is shrouded

Our refrigerators would sputter

to a stop;

our cell phones blink

out into silence,

our automobiles would run

for a time, but

so what?

Where would we go?

The stores would empty fast;

the gas pumps flicker into impotency,

the wells, too.

Best to stay home and use the fuel

for heat

or light

or suicide.

What would happen then

when nigh
every little thing in

our throw-away culture becomes

garbage

simultaneously?

There we would be, 

all of us,

clinging to our chilly

planet home

as she spins and turns

on her usual inconceivable path

in the machine of the universe.

Mindless, numb,

intent on survival

we would be rendered

the very animals that we are.

~ ~

If you met me on the road

in the deep dark endless night

you would sense it was me and I

would know it was you.

Would you kill me

and eat me

and use my skin to make yourself

an extra layer of skin

to fend off the cold?

You might, mightn't you?

But would it really make sense --

me, the one with the brain too large, and

you the one with the will of equal size

For the moment, of course, you would be convinced

the conquest was just,

its outcome satisfying --

that is until the light

returned, and there you would be,

dressed in a little bit of me

and mindless;

                                              the ruins of society

                                               would surround you,

                                                                  and you

                                                 would have no clue

                                      how to fix it.

~ ~ ~

We human creatures

are mind, body and spirit, combined,

each of us to varying degrees.

If the lights all went out

the element in us

that hides in the dark

(the element that many pretend not to own)

would emerge,

and flourish,

its anger equal

to the disgust

we leveled towards it in broad daylight,

its exploits as large as the repression

we bound it with.

~ ~ ~

(alangalvin'sblog)

~ ~ ~

So,

I woke up last night

with these words

in my mouth,

words that would be sense-

less in the primitivity

such a black-out would produce.

I stared into the darkness,

felt the familiar contours

of my frame

and prayed

for wisdom --

not for me,

but for all humans

who refuse to acknowledge

our comforts are temporary,

and our hidden desires 

capable

of the extra ordinary.

( sisu )

. . . this thing of darkness,

I acknowledge,

                   mine. . . . . .

(Prospero, Act 5 The Tempest)