Illuminate

There is something about the irradescense of light against the endless ebony of the night sky that draws people in.
We are almost obsessed with it; we seek it out.
Fireworks, Christmas lights, light shows.
I wonder. Perhaps this pull has come from an inner human need for hope.
To see luminous light blast from the bottomless abyss of dark, forming beauty in the otherwise mundane black, taps into this, and offers the viewer some level of satisfaction on a subconscious level.

There is always hope in the darkness if only one remembers to turn on the light.

"Bubble gum angels swooped from top margins or scraped their wings between teeming paragraphs, maidens with golden hair dripped sea blue tears into the book's spine."

- Jeffery Eugenides

silk

Seeing it was malevolently satisfying
drip drip drip
It seemed perfect, the way it slid down my arm
It formed an intricate shape, an art form, a web
I gazed upon it; lost. I began to hear the waves.
But then the panic set in.
What if this is it?
What if I mundanely turn into "the depressed girl", "the dead girl"? Is that all I am destined for in this life?
I refused.
I lifted myself up, pressed the wound and declared;
"I am alive"