Blackness

       There’s something about the ‘color’ black. Some may say that it’s not a color, and neither is its opposite—white. Some say that Black is the absence of light, and white is the absence of color. Black has also been the symbolic hue for evil. Perhaps this is due to the fear of darkness humanity has so long been embedded with; a fear so strong that the lack of light would drive one into the peaks of insanity. Long before civilization; long before the great efforts of making tools, Man has braved the blackness of infinity—the night—with only the moon by his side.

And yet the fear we feel inside for the darkness of night is but a sliver of the reality. For the night has been the home of the stars in the sky, and the only blackness we see is the blackness due to the absence of daylight. Taking one moment to close one’s eyes would reveal blackness skin-deep, for the light could still penetrate the eyelids.

Where is the lightless abyss? The true blackness? Where can we find the true absence of light? And yet the more appropriate question is: Why does darkness exist? Does it have a purpose? What horrid, monstrous, mad things does it hold behind its blanket of nothingness?

What if I told you that I knew the things behind the veil of blackness? I knew of the things that men feared in their early years on Earth, and their premature drive to fight back the madness with light. The veil of true darkness blinds them from human sight, but our once-keen senses would have still heard their murmurs.

And now, multitudes of secret worshippers long to hear the whispers of the sleeping Insanities, longing to reach the state of euphoric lunacy, forever chanting; forever praying, until the Stars align themselves to their rightful positions. For the veil that separated madness to sanity can only last for so long.

What if I told you that the date everyone has coveted—the date that had been marked long before the first Europeans settled in the New World—is the day when the stars will finally reach their alignments? You would tip your hat and say goodbye once the words reach your ears. But I know what I saw—I know the numbers. I did the math; I studied the stars, as the Mayans had done before me. And I knew.

Then the blackness wouldn’t matter anymore.