Anyone can Prosper in the Light….

Anyone can prosper in the day, for the light is forgiving and we never lack vision, the warm hue of a bright sunny sky is the friend of plants, humans and nature alike. Dancing fairies and limitless vistas of glorious sights are the opening pictures of a day’s delights, the dancing fairies welcoming anyone who lives without the curse of jadedness, a damning blight. Nobody questions what scenes appear when eyes are bathed in glorious light, landscapes of wonder never withheld as our feet dance upon the ground with no thought of a misgiving step.

When life plunges the dagger deep as into hellion depths a man learns that beneath the serene covering a less hospitable world beckons with skeletal cold fingers a’clicking, fairies wings and blackened flower petals litter the path with morbid relish. Flickering shadows from the tightly gripped torch hint at terrors that would crush the unsuspecting with no such mercy as their sunlit brethren would impart on equally lost souls, cries of the fallen carry in the echoing dark for the next victim to feel the chill of a heart torn with fears bitter chant.

The fresh victim stumbles, falls, and finds grim creatures to welcome him to the death drenched ground, not a sign of the green grass with fresh cut aroma to gladden the mind, just the stench of the reapers cloak when he offers you a bony hand. Turmoil and panic consume the less settled and with an unnerving screech he hears the banshees scream, no hint of comfort in the idea of shelter from a crooked tree for the noose does forebodingly hang with an air of unease.

This would scare the unprepared; bring an unearthly chill to the blessed few for anyone can prosper in the day with all its enlightened blaze, a challenge not for those that have sampled the cavernous hell of the less pleasant side. To tread where demons weep with petrifying fear and hollow men drink freely of the human soul, the dark not a mere hindrance but a treacherous force of threats that dissolve the most armoured bastion of decency upon which the honest stand tall, to tread such ground in merry taunt and cry ‘do not challenge me for I am the one to destroy you all’.

To walk the path of the damned and willingly crush under foot fairies wings and brittle bones, to command all that the dark scornfully controls, is where only the broken and fractured to the core may roam for shrill winds and mournful cold pass through the cracks of a soul.

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