A man, A mind, and nothing else

She sat in the dark room, watching the thin sliver of light. It moved towards her - motes dancing and shining in its path. She, of the darkness, and for the darkness. The light - a threat to who she was, and her way of life.

What was she to do? The light was different - harsh, sharp, yet composed of warmth. The darkness - cold and damp - yet comforting and non-threatening. At a level that no warmth could ever reach. The level at which the cold sliver of ice that lies within each heart resides and rules over the selfish part of each man and woman.

She considered the light. Felt it on her skin, felt how it made her feel. The light moved through her and within her, giving her a peace. But - it was new. It felt dangerous. Sin, coming in from outside the darkness. It burnt her eye in its brilliance. It represented that which was not comforting, which was different from all else.

She felt the darkness bathe her, and let comfort choose her as its future. The bright blue sky and its many wonders abroad never saw her face, or graced her with their presence. She avoided it, even though she missed the sensation. Such was life.

And such does life prove itself to be. Over and over again. Must everyone lack courage?