I feel like I’m perpetually living
On the wrong side of the world
On the dark side of the moon
On the inside of a cave
Shared with blind things blinking,
Straining for a light that won’t come soon.
And even if it came, how would we all handle
The world of light colliding with our world of gloom?
I feel like I’m an outsider
A strange creature of the dark
A forgotten exile who in turn forgot
There was such a thing as home
And if I saw now a hearth fire
Would it still be what I sought
Or is that other world now the foreign thing
And darkness, more my home than not?
I feel like there’s a question
One I haven’t asked just yet
One I’m thinking that I might
Because the answer might be worth it.
So at last I’ll ask myself this one:
If time can teach me even to be a thing of night,
Then what the devil is to stop me
From relearning to walk in the light?
Writer In Retrospect 
First of all, I’d “Like” your poem, but obviously WordPress doesn’t think I can handle the power. Maybe it’s right.
Still, though, I can comment, and do.
As you likely suspect, Rachel, you needn’t partake of one to the total exclusion of the other. Yes, the light draws you from the cave and at first, its brilliance blinds.
Well then, step back into the cave until your eyes adjust. Not as deeply hidden as you were, perhaps, but closer to the entrance.
Why not? You need some of each, light and dark, to keep things interesting. It’s this variety that gives you purpose and which always puts something new on the horizon to intrigue you. You need some dark to live.
By the way, I really appreciate your conclusion, Rachel. It’s a purposeful, deliberate and dare I say, “proto-optimistic” passage you very well may not have written a year ago. Yes, some meaning this one has!
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Ha! Sparring with WordPress, are you? Good luck!
Step back into the cave? Wait… I can do that? Without somehow winding up at the bottommost part of it, and getting lost for like an age (again)? That’s actually kind of a relieving thought. The light is there for me when I need it… And so is the dark. Not just an enemy. Not just a symbol of failure. But a potential ally, or even a friend.
Of course, I’ve always been a bit yin/yang; often felt that I can be a creature of opposites. Sometimes to be an optimist I have to shout cynicism. And sometimes when I verge on cynicism, my whispers are of optimism. Still, it’s nice to think that a balance can be struck; that it doesn’t have to be just one or the other, all the way. It’s nice to think that maybe, it’s just… okay.
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Exactly, Rachel! Life offers endless variety. On occasion, you bask. At other times you crave the peaceful coolness of the cave. Sometimes you’re in the flickering shadows just beyond the campfire, then later you dance in the dappled sunlight.
Always something new to explore. You have the brain and the curiosity. Please continue to show us how they’re used.
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