For this Challenge, I thought I would try something different! I wrote a dark, gothic poem for you to use to create your dark art instead of offering an image! Create your dark art around the words of the poem and let your dark imagination do the rest!
WALK THROUGH THE NIGHT
As if in a distant dream,
I went for a silent walk in the dead of night.
The sky above is starless and vacant of light.
A veil of darkness enshrouds me like a heavy, black cloak, draped around me, giving me the feeling of invisibility.
Walking, yet unseen.
The tree limbs, long vacant of their leaves, reach out their limbs, like knurled, tangled fingers, bare like bones of bark.
In the distance, there is the undisturbed quiet of the cemetery.
The departed lying in the cold of shadows lingering, in a city of ruins.
I wonder, Am I a ghost, myself?
The statues standing guard, unmovable, unyieldins, and yet, I feel their eyes, empty and vacant, watching me as I slowly pass by.
Their stare of stone lingers as if to say,
"Beware, Oh, Thee, a Child of Woe!"
Their silent message in the knowing that life is only ours for a brief moment.
Their witness of time spent in wistful decay.
I wander aimlessly through the transparent mist, the forlorn cries of the night creatures echo, calling out to the dark.
The sound of my footsteps on the sidewalk, echo as well, as if to say, "I hear, I am alive, I am listening!"
Even in the cold of darkness, life abounds, different from the life of days.
A world all of its own, sharing always the oblique for eternity.
I should return to the warmth of my home, lock the door, retreat to my bed.
Hesitant but willing, instead, I walk on.
Overcome by the feeling of separateness, as often asleep, I do not quite belong to this oblique world of night.
And yet, now, I feel that I am no stranger to its call, beckoning me further, to penetrate the gray, predatory gloom.
There is a sudden chill in the air as the low whistle of the wind hastens toward me, whips around me with no hesitation, sending crisp leaves flying, the feeling of ghost-like hands gently reaching for my face.
A shudder passes through me, thinking of the paradox of life itself.
There cannot be day without night.
How the light and dark of my days measure out to the empty span of time, stretching always before me.
Even so, it is the black of night, all of mankind has for centuries feared.
The light and dark of my days measure out to the empty span of time, stretching always before me, as the unknown future beckons, an open door. only well-imagined fears
What lies beyond its threshold?
Only what the mind of well-imagined fear can know.
That solid fear, strong, sending ripples through the thickened blood of my veins, my heart pounding out the answer to my questioning soul.
Yes, I fear and wish for it to be a stranger.
Must I accept the irreverent reality of the gloom, the dark, as much a part of my life, this old friend?
Long have I learned, that without its presence, could I ever appreciate the light? And yet, it is in the knowledge of having known the light that brings a certain feeling of peace in the solitude of this obscure night, mysterious and ancient.
All that we can know will always be, present and waiting, in the light or the dark.
It is left to us to fill the passage of time with our own doing; understand the things we cannot know and embrace what we always knew, have known for centuries.
Life is to be lived, a journey, how we are to travel is but our one decision.
Never faltering, it is not good to see too far down the road.
As it is with Life, from beginning to end, what is well, we make well. What is not, we leave alone.
The rest we do not think about until we are forced to recognize our own upcoming fate.
Life, our possession, is eternal. A gift.
I know, and thus so willingly, understand.
Up ahead, I see the timid, coming of Dawn, as night slowly fades into day.
Morning pierces the sky with her fragile colors of hope, a promise for a new day.
In the stillness of this light, I suddenly feel the timid beginnings of joy ensue,
Alive, alone, I walk on.
