Open the Box.

The lights, once off were now on, as if flicked into existence by a switch on the wall. Things are progressing from what they had first been. At the beginning, in the blackness, it was just common association with the group you were part of. Next the association unfolded with something you love: pinpricks could be made out, looking more like stars, the more you looked at them. You talk and try to elaborate on the darkness, attempting to make it a little less dense; people, places music, beliefs all took place, each ripping at their own corner of night, embellishing the beauty of sight.

He said that things seemed to be moving well, as I was constantly reaching for the switch… this was something I would not give in to. I needed to see.

Things progressed and I felt that I was nearing something that would change my perspective. Emotions were swelling as I stretched out my fingers, still inches away from the power source. Trust became an asset as I found that assistance through the task would prove more effective and forwarding. But as far as I could tell, I was the one on the journey to find the plate; this did not bother me though. I would wait for a joined effort: an aid to make it less dreary in the solitude.

I was starting to fumble in the darkness for a bit of wall not taken by paint, but by plastic. I ran my hands up and down and from both directions but I was still over the slightly bumpy wall texture. I was starting to lose hope when the very tip of my finger met something unfamiliar. My fingers slowly slid around ’til they grazed a corner.

You’ve gotta kick at the darkness ’til it bleeds daylight.