For James

The fine print of life is that no one ever tells you that it also includes death.

No one mentions that the cycle of life includes the dark part, the part when the sun goes down and the daemons come out; and no one ever really wants to listen when the heart stops and the brains stops and the breath ceases to come. 

They don’t want to talk about that. 

The thing about the light is that it’s taken for granted and when we go to sleep at night, we expect that it will be there in the morning, but what if I woke up and there was no light? 

The thing about the dark is that it’s unknown and the usual way I use my senses won't get me by—I have to use something else to see in the black—I must learn to see with my ears and my fingers and my heart. 

The thing about talking about the light and the dark is that seeing these black flecks on white paper makes me think that the rest of life is not like this, but here it is, when I get it down and look at it, everything becomes a little more clear, a little more comprehensible. 

One more thing about the light is that it can only be had because of the dark. It takes two to Tango, the light and the darkness. And yet, if there was only light, I also wouldn't be able to see because there would be no outline of shapes to form my body into a language to tell you that I love you.