Studies on…LIGHT


Day 2.

Today I would dare to talk to you about light…I was reading, by chance, few days back, a thought that Nichita Stănescu ( famous and bright Romanian poet and essayist). In his “Physiology of the poetry”, he made me wonder about something. “The time is light. But light, what is the Light?” And here I am, asking myself the very same question. What is, in fact, the light? The light I am craving for from the moment I open my sleepy eyes, the light that I am searching for in my dreams?

I feel it most of the times when i. t’s missing, and the darkness soars over me, creating rebellion storms and silent roars. The light, I think, might be exactly what you have experienced yesterday, when greeting the spring. The light is God’s mirror pointing at your soul…

The light is the waltz of the Sun with the Moon, the dancing steps of different feelings triumphing against lucidity. And still, where does it come from? I know light is thousands of colours and shades. I am imagining how everything is born from its opposite energy…touching the perfection through the oxymoronic source that has created it. And then, do you think that the root of light is the misty darkness itself? It seems that everything gains a bit of meaning, and if I look at it better, I am craving for light because, perhaps, I have not left the darkness…

Do you want to tel me, thus, that I have not embraced my darkness to understand the light, in and of itself? You are intriguing me. Let’s leave the darkness for tomorrow.

I step out of the solar light and look toward the true light…Try to remember that moment when you were happy, so happy that you radiated light, bringing serene sunrays over yours and your devoted mother’s sky. I told you I could see the sun in your eyes and that brought me light too. I mean, happiness. Your light became my light. You shared it with me, you offered it to me. But your light did not die, like a dream caught by the rationality and lost in the nothingness that it was born by. Your light expanded and surrounded all your universe. And now, sitting here, I wonder, does it mean that light was brought to life from your kindness? From your happiness? A bright lump of love that rolls over and spreads sparkles of happiness which become, in return, other great lumps of light?

Let’s make one more step…Now, keep it between us, but where does this light go? The logic frantically under question…Like any human being (talking about it yesterday) we want to know it all, touch it all, analyse it all. But light is magical exactly because of its incapacity of being touched. Light is feeling. It is what cannot be caught by the arms of the darkness any longer. It got detached into permanence and became the creation itself. Nature. God.

We are the light. It comes from us, so that is shared. In the end, we turn into light, we return to it, because we are just perfect extensions of the same light…

The time is light. And the light is knowledge, the only way to understand, in essence, the time…

What does light mean to you, my dear reader?

See you tomorrow,

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