The Old Lady

Countless times I’ve watched my joy wipe off like the morning dew.

I’ve seen hope turn into misery, misery turn into pain, and pain turn into fear. I’ve knelt before my most concrete plans and watch them crumble before my eyes.

And the more I watch them all fall apart, the more I fall into this dark hole.

Angry. Tired. Scared.

But as I grow, I began to realise that maybe there’s more. Maybe there’s more to my perspective of time and events.

Maybe I’m scared of the dark because it reminds me of something I wish was not true. My mortal weakness. The human side of me.

What if all along, the dark was designed to be my friend, my companion? And it made me wonder, what if I learn to embrace the dark? What if I cherish the dark? What if I am the dark?

And as I knelt there one night, hands open, head bowed, living on the edge of a broken dream, I felt this presence stand before me.

It was the old lady. She looked pale. I could see through her but could not see her.

It was pitch black but yet, so bright. I was scared but she pushed forward. Now I can see her. I recognise her. She is darkness made flesh.

It felt like she’s been watching all along. She stepped out of her shadows and moved into mine, laid her hands on me… and whispered

Tired Soul, to be free, learn to be okay with uncertainty.

She told me my senses, my cognition is the light. But like all elements of our mortal construct, it has proven to be unreliable.

She told me, you must turn off the light, you must embrace the dark, you must trust the dark.

To trust, to believe, you must let go of your senses, the light. You must learn to embrace the unknown, the unseen, the unfelt.

You must understand that you know nothing. And as you watch the fragment of all you know fall part, learn to pick what’s left of these fragments and rise to the dawn of a new day.