In a flash of a microsecond, every symbol of modernity that is surrounding me, sulked into their little corners of inanimation. The grumbling AC, howls in bass as it slowly curbs in forced silence. The incandescent bulb, incarcerated atop the ceiling, blinked ephemerically, before it became subversive with the darkness. The spark of modernity was unplugged for a while. Everything, in a specific area, was shut down. Man’s conspicuous dependence towards a byproduct of neglect, popped out like a pinched pimple. We lose vigor when we are bathed with darkness. It’s like our life gets diffused and disappear together with the light that grazes every nook of reality.

Astonishingly enough, it is during that short, evanescent time that I got to contemplate on the unnoticed beauty of darkness and the games little things play. When everything turned black, as the eyes of the unacclimatized search for a snippet of glare as he succumbs to the undaunted charge of darkness, I laid down my semi-sheeted bed. And as I was laying flat, arched by the curve of the submissive cushion (therefore I was not laying flat..), I caught a glimpse, though transient of the revelry of those who frolic and strive in darkness. The silence, whose existence is slowly becoming endangered. People now do not stop to listen to the things he/she cannot comprehend. The existence of silence may be ubiquitous, but we are no longer aware of it being always there. It is only during times of electricity-less that we get to hear the ever-existing silence. And surprisingly enough, it is not totally silent as first perceived by quasi-deaf beings. Silence is an unceasing sharp hum, of which the pattern of sound is indistinguishable. It craves for attention, it clambers the cochlea of your ears, wishing for you to hear its subliminal message; ‘I exist!’, it continually hums. The silence is our inner, suppressed selves, our hidden desires, and our buried wishes and dreams. We get only to listen to it, when we close the ear that is in trajectory to some deafening, professionally arranged tunes. These tunes are others dictates towards us, their expectations, their want from us. They nag so much near our ears, that we forget that we have our own voices. Silence is natures gift towards mechanical people. They should listen to nothing some time, it is therapeutic!

Another little thing that plays in frolic as darkness blooms are little playful lights. These lights dance in child-like passion. And although these petty lights are numbered in almost extinction, they do not hold back. As these little lights enter whatever nook approaching my room has, they flicker in faint yet frolic dance. It is as if they dance to the sharp hums of silence. Sometimes they disappear in a sudden shake of their bulging body; they reappear in a surprise entrance. They disappear as suddenly as they appear. I feel the pain of these petty lights as they only become visible as all else becomes shrouded in an almost invisible shroud of darkness. The eyes can only see enough as the little lights allows it to see. As I was archly lying behind my back on my semi-submissive cushion, I only see bland black and white. Gray is non-sensible. For if it is, then I doubt it is something from this realm. Back to these little flickering faint light, the color of which is invisible during day.

After I got expedient and got too much of these flickering lights dancing one dance of regularity, I shifted my attention to the semi-translucent curtain. When light strikes my eye, my eye that has become totally dependent of white light, this curtain is dustily colored green. With irregular lines stitched on the surface to inefficaciously conceal the insides of my room. When the AC grumbles in effortful blowing of commensurate air, this curtain dance in an avoidant belly dancing. But when the darkness dominated my perceived reality, this curtain slouched, got straight in emptiness. It was lonely and it felt unloved. The light outside, produced by the spangled heavens, pierced vigorously on the lonely curtain to give me a little natural light inside my semi-dark incarceration. This natural light, commensurate of its title as the harbinger of hope, made me see some inanimate objects inside my room. The computer table, rigid and strong, scaffolding the epitome of the modern age, sits blankly on the calm of lightlessness. I was fearful that it might rebel as it was shocked and awed by the sudden unplugging of life. But I noticed it being introverted, so maybe it will stay still and silent.

The last thing I noticed during this predicament of black staleness, is the click of the clock. Its perfunctory clicks are annoying, but I could not locate it anywhere, since my eyes are enslaved by the absence of light. So I let it be. I closed my eyes, since where I was and where I was going is colored the same, black, I did not complain. But as quick as the light faded is also as quick as it flashed. The source of all modernity returned, and it was due. I carried my body towards an erect position, and donned a smile. It was this night that a first became a catalyst for many, or so I hope, but I am willing.

I ran out of sporadic, nonsensical, aimless meandering as I turned on again the epitome of modernity. As I was making this, I am constantly shifting from one window to another. During that fleeting moment of lightlessness, I got to hear the voice that beforehand I only get to hear in wishes. 3:04, concise, but will surely be remembered for all of the annoying clicks of the clock. Though there was 56seconds of wasted could-have-beens, it was still all worth it. Being blind for a fleeting time catalyzed the audacity to try to call (YKWYA), is well worth the bargain. I’m looking forward to many next’s. But I’m hoping also that the next’s will not be without light, as I have a slight irrational fear of darkness. 3:04! The time of what has remained of my life. =]