“It’s dark in here.” She whispered.
“Close your eyes.” He said. “And think of the light.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut;slowly,hesitantly.
And she saw it. In the darkness of her mind’s eye,burning softly,flickering in an imaginary wind, a tiny little candle;burning valiantly against the deep darkness. As she concentrated,the flame strengthened, rising in heat and height, consuming the darkness in its fiery determination. The flame burnt higher and higher, burning away her darkness in a blaze of red and orange and the smell of smoke.
It was the crackling of a campfire under the canopy of the dark, flames dancing to the tunes of laugher and lilting, happy voices. The smell of marshmallows cooking in the heat, the burst of warm sweetness against ready tongues. It was the warmth and comfort that was the difference between life and death on a cold,cold night.
The light changed shape. It was no longer flame,it was now the dim glow of a light bulb. And as she concentrated, the looming darkness dotted with circle after circle of yellow, light popping up everywhere; a city road at midnight, a sky full of golden stars.
She saw fireworks; rockets whizzing into the air, bursting into a thousand sparks, the colours of which stained the dark of the sky briefly,momentarily. She saw supernovae collapsing and exploding, burning brighter than all the flame in the world could ever provide.
She saw the final, desperate blaze of a star before its light was blotted out for all eternity; its swan song having no musical notes but bursts of final,frantic fire.
It was everywhere, bursts of light, dancing, dancing in soft footsteps. Footsteps of sunlight through tangled branches, of moonlight flickering in a pool. Of the silver glint off the edge of metal, of the tiny beams of light ricocheting infinitely off the surfaces of a diamond. Light in mobile screens, light in the great beacons guiding thousands home. Light weaving wayward rainbows.
It was the crackling quicksilver of lightning, it was the dull gleam of steel. It was many-tiered, glittering chandeliers, it was the small, fierce glow of a matchstick. It was the fluorescence of a thousand glow worms,lighting up the dark in their winged dance. It was the first soft rays of dawn breaking through the dark of night.
And above all, the light in all of us. The shimmering, inconstant starbursts of joy. The flickering hope. The lovelight that keeps us going, that makes the impossible conquerable. The fiery resolve and strength of mind that keeps us fighting, against all odds. The light of the soul, shining forth brighter than starlight and moonbeams and the rays of the sun blended together.