My Dear One,

Opposite counterparts, day and night.  One might even say twins; not identical, but fraternal.  Or two sides of the same coin.  Imagination can almost make each to have their own personalities.  Imagine it with me, will you?  The day … boisterous in its arrival, calling out to us, demanding even, to be recognized.  The feel of the day is one of self-glorified importance.  The day itself is a show-off, strutting its stuff in full view, constantly and almost arrogantly reminding us of its prominence, drawing attention to itself.  It puts everything out in the open, as the brightest star does its bidding, sunlight illuminating all, with none of its corners unlit.  Look at me in all my brilliance, the day seems to say.

The day controls the clock; the sound of ticking time is music to its ears.  So much to be accomplished, the rushing against the clock as humans strive to get everything done.  The day likes it this way.  An inflexible task master, it has a sadist delight in keeping people busy and unsettled, running to and fro until they want to fall to the ground in exhaustion.  When they try to get away, to rest, it finds them.  There is no hiding, no escape.  It forces one to bare all, even if it is not yet time to do so, because all is seen in its light.

The way the day leaves mirrors its turbulent personality, flaming ribbons of color painted across the sky.  The ribbons as its fingers, not wanting to let go, even in its leaving making its mark to ensure we won’t forget, using the sun to blind us as it departs.

The counterpart to day … night.  Standing outside at night, under a sparkly starry sky, the quietness is a much welcome relief from the screeching of the day with its ultimatums.   The night has no demands.  It is unassuming, unexpectant, asking nothing of us but to rest and recharge from the helter skelter of the day.  Night is the keeper of secrets.   We can trust the night.  It does not drown out our voice, and embraces us instead with the darkness, comforting us with tranquility and silence.  It listens to us in honesty; there is no pretense to be found in the night.  Things are hidden, not from a sense of shame or guilt, but simply because everything does not have to be revealed all at once.  Slowly divulged, slowly unfolded, all in its own good time, as the night patiently waits.  Reminders of that passing time are gentle; stars shifting, moon glowing.  Even the moon does not blaze across the sky; rather, it journeys, enjoying the trip, casting its soft shine as proof of its contentedness.

Night enters with diplomacy and peace, as its shadows leisurely make their way across the sky.  And it is confident enough to leave on its own terms, without fanfare, just dissipating in the presence of light.

So, my dear one, why do some of us fear the night?  Shouldn’t we fear the day instead?

All my love,

Your Never Sleeping Beauty

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.  ~Sarah Williams