W.I.P. 2

God he loved the sun, it always shed it’s light on the lies and deciet of the night. He, the Sun, gave him the knowlege of himself, that he would know himself, and have a purpose, something to show him where he needed to improve, to change and better himself. The way it always warmed him to his core, even in the coldest of winter days. His ever shining companion to light his way, and guide him through the parts of his world that he had yet to explore, and he gave life, the Sun, to all around his domain, save for the night. It’s guiding light ever bright, always without fail showing him the path. Their relasonship, his and the Sun’s, was the only true relationship he had ever known and the colors of the clouds as Sun went down were to him a gift and a promise, personal to him, from the Sun, that he, the Sun would soon return with even more gifts and blessings and lessons to learn.

And then the onset of Night, and her.

God he loved the Night. He loved the smell of her, the sweet promise of the things of pleasure and bliss and unethical, immoral endeavors that would permeate his soul to the point of non-redemption. And her, always her the Night would bring. She would always be his downfall, and fall he would everytime. He would bare his deepest, and she would soothe it away with promises of her own, and then leave him with the dawn, hollow, empty, alone and betrayed, Her and the Night. Left to dance alone and his sins of her and the Night exposed to the Sun and ashamed.

God he hated the Sun and the Night. Forever with thier own dance and back and forth like the pendulum that so keenly sliced his being into frothy agony. Forever reminding him of his place in the world: that one place in the corner, forever facing both the Sun and the Night, forever alone, in their game of hide and seek.

So he bought some sunglasses and a lamp and all is right with the world.