I know the darkness. The hidden places that it possesses fully. The effortless way it takes over everything in the end. The undersides of shadows.

And grudgingly, I admire them, though I would prefer to be an aspen shaking off sunlight, switching my investments from emerald to gold to silver whenever the seasons took my senses.

The shadows stay silent, savoring the Japanese fairy tale of the gold koi and the ebony, of the light which needs the darkness to make the treasure real.