Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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“Why do we love the light?” he asked. His eyes verged of tears, as if the question forced pins into his stomach. I shrugged and observed the beauty of our shared moment. “You don’t know?” he wondered, his voice thin. I nodded. “I only know why I do,” I replied. He stared into the crawl of night, watching the sun’s violet reach expire like a candle denied air. He wouldn’t ask another question, so I held out my hand. After a moment, he took it and I closed my fingers around his small open palm. “The light shows us everything that’s easy in this world,” I began. His eyes sparkled blue even in the graying of the evening. “The light delivers answers, it reveals and defines. If fills our days with beauty and our nights with majesty.” He mulled over these ideas, his jaw flexing as if they were pieces of bubble gum. “Does that mean we hate the dark?” I shook my head no. “The dark raises all the questions and hides beauty. Without it, light would mean nothing. So no, we love dark too,” I explained. He looked to the sky, then back to me. I continued, “We love it all because we are the gray. We are equal parts light and dark.” He smiled, tears at the corners of his eyes clearing. “So we are loved?” he asked, his hope heartbreaking. I pulled him close. “We are each the sum of love. It’s what made us and what we’re made of.” We sat silently after that, watching the light fade all around us. (at Queations)

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