Darkness and hate cannot eradicate themselves; only light and love can dispel them. In the throes of darkness, we may find ourselves lost, timid, skeptical, and dreaming beyond capricious boundaries. Our personal darkness, once decrypted, can become a guide to understanding another's.

A loved one once gifted me a box filled with darkness. It was a strangely precious offering, its significance slowly unmasking over the years. Observe how one tiny candle brilliantly undermines and contours the darkness around it, defiantly persisting no matter the overwhelming gloom.

As darkness looms, the light within me seems inadequate to repel it. One's actions in the dark may incite silent, self-focused shame, divorced from public disgrace. In this ink-black domain, who can confidently comment on a rose's hue, or the pilgrimage of a May moth? Probing darkness with incessant light will not reveal its true nature.

I awaken in a realm of constant self-confrontation, a looping journey of self-discovery. Could we rise soaring above despair, seek each other's company, and rediscover comfort in shared words and gazes? It's true: The deeper you traverse into darkness and survive, the higher your potential to soar.

Lessons of vital importance were taught to me in the murk, lessons that would have remained hidden in the clarity of daylight. These revelations have saved me time and again, leading me to the conclusion that darkness is as essential to me as light. Particularly in grief, it's within the darkness that we might find the closest source of light.

Darkness, in its terrifying form, cloaks me like a burial shroud, ushering me through ominous mists. Yet, as darkness prevails, it illuminates an innate beauty, a radiant gleam from within. With the inevitability of demise, if I am to encounter darkness, I will greet it as a beloved companion, enveloping it with welcoming arms.