The Color of Darkness

It isn't black.

The color of darkness, that is.

That nameless shade of darker grey that blankets our vision in the absence of light - it isn't nameless at after all. The German have a word for it: eigengrau

'Intrinsic Grey'.That's what it means. That's what it is. Simple as that.

Yet, nowadays, most people do not know the word, do not recognize the darkness as a color. They give the color other titles instead, unfeeling ones meant to offer a degree of explanation, such as 'visual noise' or 'background adaptation' or some other and scientists grasp for some proper explanation for why such a phenomenon exists.

Science is advancement. Something positive, but...

... isn't it nice to think that the color of nothing has a name as well?

Imagine it in a storybook, a word in a description of some person or a feeling.

"His eyes weren't black. It was a softer sort of darkness, the kind that seemed to fade into the shadows when you turn off the lights. Eigengrau - that was the word for it, for the softer, gentler sort of darkness that envelops you before you sleep. His eyes were that very shade.

Maybe that's how he made people feel so at ease."

It isn't bad, once in a while, to unplug everything that glows, draw the curtains, kill the lights, and just stare into that lightless expanse of grey.

Eigengrau

Once in a while

It isn’t bad

To just unplug the glows

Draw the drapes

Kill the lights

And stare into

That dark and endless

Nothingness

That vast expanse of grey

Lullaby of the Universe

Sweet little child, so lost and dear

Come closer; I’ll remove that fear

I’ll cut it from your tortured heart

And make it so t’was never here

Instead, on a journey you’ll depart

And seek for yourself a brand new start

A beginning with which you’ll make an end

To the delicate story, a fragile art

And on this voyage I will send

An anguished soul to make amends

Yes, the one who caused you pain

The one who once you called your friend

However, this now is your domain

Just pen the end and erase the stain

Forgive or not’s your choice to make

To set him free or lock his chains

But in the end, for your sweet sake

Your heart and will, I’ll pluck and take

This choice will be not yours at all

There are greater things at play, at stake

So heart of my dear, just go to sleep

Your soul I’ll guard, emotions keep

And on this journey, in your stead

Your body will the torment reap

So worry not your little head

Forget these words that I have said

Ignore the screams that you have heard

And slumber, peaceful, without dread

((This is basically the summary of the book series I am currently writing. It might not make sense to some people, but it will when I'm done with the novels themselves.))

Windshield Wipers

In the windshield of my father's car
I see a thousand stars and the wiper
Sweeps across
And smears them
Shifting time forward
Tracing their orbit as the earth continues to turn.

On the way home...

In the middle of the street, on the dotted yellow line
There was a shoe.

Not a pair.
Just one.

There was nothing particularly eye-catching about the shoe itself.
It was pale blue.
Clean, free of tire marks.
A velcro sneaker.
Small.

Maybe a toddler's.

It was there on the middle of the street, resting perfectly -
A little crooked, but sole-down, saddle-up -
Right on the yellow line.

Just something to think about today.