The almost morning hour. When darkness is blanketed over you, but you expect daylight to invade at any moment.
And as I look outside, I see the world filtered in through the perspective of lights. Any light, even a tiny one shines so bright in the darkness of the night. I see the outlines of the hills which shelter the valley, various shades of black and blue congealed into the pitch blackness of the sky. I see the serpentine branches of a tree outside my window, stripped out of its leaves and dignity with the harsh onslaught of winter.
And then I stop, and I look at myself. Sitting out here in the dark, digging at my thoughts. Sometimes observing, sometimes being carried away, other times trying to make them stop. There are so many of them, in so many directions, with so many purposes. The more I attempt to listen to all of them, the more its chatter intensifies.
So I withdraw. I do not listen to them anymore. I let them fly by, like a bystander observing on a busy highway. They are like the fast cars screeching by, some of them louder than others. A few invite me to come in and take a ride with them.
But I tune them out.
And slowly , these needy thoughts get dissociated from me. Silently they are not a part of me anymore. What I can now hear is the whirring of the fan, the rhythm of my own breath, the overpowering pregnant silence of the night.
And somewhere inside me, there is a relief. There is peace and calm.
There is silence. And then there is Light.