Because we are neither creatures of the light, nor creatures of the dark. Because I needed to refine it, and say it again. Because when we cry out, we seek a response. Because the ache will not be erased with platitudes. Because:
Blessed are the liars,
for they make room for what’s not yet there.
Blessed are the hypocrites,
for revealing paradox in its infinite glory.
Blessed is the dark,
not for balancing the light, but for being the dark.
Blessed are the endings of things,
for in cessation, differentiation.
Blessed are the suicides,
for there is choice, even in this.
Blessed are the wakeful,
for their thrift with small hours.
Blessed are the dreamless,
for at least their sleep will be untroubled by nightmares.
Blessed are the broken,
for in their agony, empathy.
Blessed are the guilt-ridden,
for they know harm, and fear to cause it.
Blessed is the night,
for only then can the stargazers use their gifts.