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Taijitu If coldness is the paper upon which rich energy is written, Is darkness itself empty of energy?

Only cold absence, The stellar interstices, The vacuum that hold us all, spinning, in its hollow grip, The scale of the void immeasurable, incomprehensible, That expanse so haltingly deep it defies our busy and miniscule minds, And yet (we know) this enveloping cosmic dark, Fizzes incessantly with the potentiality of substance, Though it is only that, latent, potential, Particle pairs continually hissing in mutual annihilation, Under the weight of this incalculable nothing we contemplate, So black, crow black, Yet the darkness is strewn with filaments of stuff, of light! This tracery of galaxies harbours darknesss deeper still, More solid than any visible material begat of light, Stretching the fabric of its mother void with malevolent density, These Black Holes are darkness made completely heavy, Brooding orbs of clotted night, Their invincible hunger will tear a star, Devouring those immense burning shreds, And yet, These bulbs of ultimate darkness have, of course, Yang in their Yin, Though blind, they are creative beasts in their habit, They break the symmetry of those aforementioned, Self-annihilating particle pairs, That foam in the foundation of absolute reality, Swallowing the negative twins while their positively charged sisters Escape an immaculate fate, Thus populating our splendid firmament with free energy, light, Radiated, sprayed out! From those incomprehensible boundaries, Singularities, So we have seen our primal background as black, Darkness as the empty endless womb, The great absence a stage for all things, And on that stage weve seen blacker still, Super black, Denser dark, So intense that perhaps these holes of black are light turned inside out, Taking, thieving substance, in balance against their generous, alchemist brothers, The stars, So let us consider now light! Where is that to be found in its purest concentration? In stars to be sure,

But we must leave this platonic realm of light and dark, To contemplate the dynamism and interplay of that perennial and ultimate visual dichotomy, - Light and dark, On a scale that befits our size and home, Our Pale Blue globe pirouettes around our Sun, Warming its whole spherical body in those nourishing rays, Much as a sun bather turns over and over for an even tan, A tan line on our planet would be a devastating thing, The complex surface of our light loving earth does wondrous things with the rich energy its given, In a rainbow we see the whole palette for the terrestrial painting we inhabit, The chromatic fantastic that splashes, flicks and flecks, Augmenting every form of substance, With each unique refractive index, Light! of course the source of our delight, As we are visual creatures disempowered by the night, Our ancestors freed from the circadian rhythm of sunrise and fall, Early mastery and manipulation of fire that ultimate tool, Huddled outside under ancient skies by the mouths of caves, Upright apes were mesmerised by the dance of plasma flames, Of their design, darkness defied, set wooden fuel ablaze, Baptised by fire back then we became a charged species of light, A switch flicked carries day into night as if by magic trick, Though felicity of electricity began with that burning stick, Now were giddy with the brightness of our fervent illuminations, If seen from space our nation states just glow as constellations, No more the planets darkened lobe in shelter from the Sun, As now our cities never sleep since that early burning begun, Though we are dark and we are light as metaphor its true, It seems sunlight feeds our brightest side and every careful hue, While our frenetic electrical light holds back that outer dark, We still yearn for solar rays and sated in them bask, As shining of any kind will sullen shadows throw, We can yet in them solace find and quietude from the glow.