And yet another installment: Sparks

What is it for, this little spark we have

Flickering in the wide cold dark
In the vast universe, too large for comprehension
Empty, burning, frozen too
Over space and space again
Time and time again.
And these little lights burn


So small, so fragile
These little lights are
They may end at a moment
Never to be seen again
Their color unique
In every sense of that word
And yet of all the same matter
Tomorrow you die, they say
Expecting some far off day
Not realizing that tomorrow could be
Tomorrow. Or even today.


Watch as it dims without fuel
That little light of mind
The spark weakens as it loses itself in false worlds
Worlds created for its comfort
To make it feel important
To make it feel like meaning exists
Must exist
And that it is simple, small
As if this little light were in a room
And all there were was this room
Small enough that it's light reached every corner.
Is it any wonder that the dimmer the light, the smaller the room must be?
So there be no dark corners, no answers to seek, no mystery?

The space beyond this gilded, painted room
The real
Is cold and dark. One might be tempted to believe
That it is cold and dark and there is no light
But we must remember what we are, we sparks
We ARE the light

Bring the sparks closer together.
Watch as they grow in brightness
Watch as they grow in warmth
These special little points of light
Seeking shelter with themselves from the cold night
And they can look out
From their warmth
And see the real, see it again from calm, unfrightened eyes
And see that it is beautiful, and moving, and frightening, and exciting
But most of all: REAL.