At the End of the Day, It Is Night
Crystal Dawn’s Anticipation
Temporal are our achievements, and our dreams are made up of ethereal cobwebs; they break as greater forces move through them, and they shatter into microcosmic ideas that, like an infinite amount of multifaceted diamonds, glimmer with retroreflective qualities. These small and insignificant gemstones store and hold the light for just a little bit longer, but inevitably, the dark night arrives, and while they may glow until the clock strikes midnight, long before the hour of the wolf, they fade into the darkness. Unbreakable but easily lost and misplaced, they may remain sheltered from the light of the rest of our days, unless we go searching and unless we go piecing them together, they will never make up the intricate patterns and beautiful architecture from which they derive.
Change is a constant factor, and man is plagued in present by both past and future, stuck in a limbo of what has been and what will be, both spectres of the immaterial, lingering, frozen in movement - everflowing. You can adapt, and you can make your peace with it, but the constant remains the same: things change and some change in a predictable pattern. The movement of stars, planets, water and even life, follows laws ordering chaos to predictability, yet in our smallness, it is only some of it we perceive, and more we ignore. We take the risks, and we make our choices, and when things end perfectly predictably, we blame everything but ourselves.
On the road of life’s black ice, we desperately cling to the wheel, and we break trying to regain our footing, and with determination, we end up in the ditch. There are things in life you can control, and others you can’t - to disregard willpower is just as foolish as attributing everything to it. We often attribute the good in our life to our own doing, and whatever ill-fate befalls us, we attribute it to external forces, things outside of our control and in doing so, we only inflate our own pride and ego. Yet as much as we seize and try to control our days, in the end comes the night; it’s inevitable. We either defy it with electric light or we submit ourselves to ignorant sleep, and we wake at the calling of the sun.
Our restlessness, we do not blame on our day, instead we toss and turn as sleep remains out of reach, and as our minds retell us what we should’ve been doing, and does its best to correct us, we ignore it and shut it out. We distract ourselves until we are lulled into a false sense of security, and before we know it, our choices have turned our rhythm inside out, and we live through the nights and sleep through the days. We may desperately try to catch up and make good on what we neglected through diligent night work, or we continue to distract ourselves from it and escape into the comforts of the solitary and nocturnal. When others sleep, we move through the cobwebs of their dreams, and we steal the precious pieces to create our own works.
High Noon’s Declaration
No matter what you do, and who you are - at the end of the day comes night. Following night, a new day dawns, and so it goes. Recycled, refurbished and the brand new is the same old. Eternally recurring and temporarily here. The mundane contradiction is a divine paradox, neither here nor there, and the road to knowhere is a circular path leading back to the tailgate of the viper. Fathomable, inconceivable knowledge of particularities, generally speaking, thought-terminating clichés set obstacles which open portals to new worlds. The same road in the different seasons all provide different scenery of the same, and the perpetual gain is what is temporarily lost.
Focus is a mirror of goodwill, reflecting resistances from the subjective and psychic core of consciousness. The self is boundless and limited only to the sovereign, ergo ego. Psychoanalytic hogwash makes for a lateral soap which dissolves the reflection with froth. Clean thought is water; it washes preconceived notions and ideas away and makes for a clean slate, strengthening and straightening the crooked canvas. Whittling frames from bones, the art of sculpting is about removing, not adding. Shaping the ethereal cobwebs from silken threads, creating the negative space necessary for the perception and intelligibility of creativity.
Convoluted and winding, both air and fire are light but only homographically; the linguistic symbolism, however, does reveal some rather telling details about the essential characteristics of both elements. The day is light and bright - and so can the night be, if the moon is full, which does not emit any light of its own, but merely reflects the light of the sun. We may begin to unravel the mysteries which this enigmatic saying reveals.
At the end of the day, it is night. Good comes, and bad leaves; both are good, and both can be bad. You don’t have to worry about sunburns at night, and you don’t have to worry about paling like a corpse if you live in the day. Neither is that nor this, but they do follow one another, constantly. After work comes rest, and a period for quiet reflection; a busy day of work is replaced with the stillness incubating dreams, where crystal spiders weave webs of stardust.
Good times always come to an end, and so do bad times. Work is replaced with rest, and rest makes way for work, and around it goes. There’s a time to sow, and there’s a time to reap. The feeling of deja vu is just a symptom of Groundhog Day, and it all remains the same, but different. It’s different this time. It wasn’t like this yesterday, although they are similar.
Midnight’s Emancipation
The final words are the introduction to a new beginning, prologue, and epilogue are matters of taste and perspective. What you do echoes eternally, and they fade in the temporal storms, dissolve into wind. The dream webs you build are like cotton candy, and the sandcastles are admired before the tide, but bring no safety from the water. Water holds oxygen, electric currents and impurities which break down and corrode some things; others, immune to rust, are kept secret in the depths.
Speak into the breeze, it will carry your words and the crunching of snow beneath your feet, sleet and rain will create icy puddles, and you might slip if you don’t watch your step. Silence is better than meaningless chatter, and if you have something worthwhile to say, however, if you’re alone, you might as well speak your mind, no matter how trivial and useless. Practice not amongst your peers, but sharpen your skills against the walls. That way, you don’t cut open a mind and plant seeds of immaturity and arrogance; however, how could you hope to say anything else if you don’t practice?
Seek the wonderful councillor, and remember that this force is always with you. To channel is to sculpt divine, and to speak is to manifest mind. It’s the art of not adding, but removing. Remove superfluous and condense the essence into a single droplet of wisdom. The quota is filled, and the cup is overflowing, no matter what you pour into the glass. Do not mix water into your wine, and do not split your milk with lemon juice.
Regardless of what you do, at the end of the day, it is night. Regardless if you sleep through the day and work throughout the night, your destiny remains the same. You do not control time, the weather or the seasons. You may try to fight against the currents, but your soul of iron will still erode, and you will become nothing more than the dreams you’ve built. Dream webs that shatter in the wind. No matter where they go, or if they crystallise into something material, or if you create something new with them, no matter any of it all. It will all remain as it was and as it will be: right now.
At the end of the day, it is night, and after tomorrow, it’s just more tomorrow, which before then was the past, which is now the present. Don’t get lost in the sauce, spin your webs and create something beautiful, something which can be understood, always risks being misunderstood. Something intelligible is always unintelligible to others. Speak your own language, create your own kind of music, or do whatever you feel is right. Breathing is a must, and once you find enjoyment in the fresh air, even a necessity becomes a deeply fulfilling experience.
