Have you ever pondered thoughts of your environment with questions of what reality is and what is imaginary?
There are moments in life, where the environment blurs the lines of who you are and what you ask for or of yourself. It is up to the mind and desire to take an action, to lead you to recognize the natural feelings toward the surroundings around you.
Infinite white space, the dream begins; a man is enclosed in this seemingly colorless expanse. The space never shows a speck or splatter, no hint of color or any sign of life. It is bright, white, as the surface of a sheet of paper and as blank as a canvas. The white space is perfectly clean, with a single source of bright white light radiating softly from above. The man stretches out his arms and feels around with his callous hands, stumbling forward and nearly lost
for a time, until his fingers finally press against the four corners of this white chamber.
It is well sealed; there are no doors, no windows or any obvious outlet to let him escape in this room. This is the reality. His being trapped inside this white room is his realization of having all the daily life parameters, rules, and modern social constructions for him to fit into; for him to not let himself go insane, and be something more, escape the predetermined life he thought everyone wanted him to lead. But, the man in this room is being shut away from everything he can imagine, in complete nothingness, there was only one thing left he could do. Think.
At that moment he sees a shadow, his own shadow, reflecting and revealing at the floor, against the source of light from above. Now, bravely attached to his feet, the shadow boldly follows him around. It is that same shadow hiding away all his organs pulsing, his blood flowing through his body inside. The shadow is infinite and silently screaming behind him. The closer he moves to the center of the room, closer to the light shining on him, it becomes brighter and the shadow becomes bigger, taller. He develops an idea that will allow him to escape this reality of insanity.
He finds himself in the center of the room, right under where the source of light is in full maximum brilliance above him, and gathered at his feet is his shadow multiplying out in every direction until it reaches to the four corners of the white room. Slowly he begins to close his eyes and imagine the elaborate.
Imagining the darkness, also sealed, and only existing in the confines of his shadows. He begins forming letters in black text and sprawling handwriting as he begins to visualize the words in his mind. He starts selecting words, because it is the darkest source of power and communication to free him from any livid white space. Black text becomes his right hand power for this situation and he knows now as the words pour out of him that as soon as he eludes the imagination, and all the possibilities, that the white space will vanish away in his mind. He begins by warping out the shadows, forming shapes into words that translate thoughts into descriptions, thoughts of feelings, thoughts of expressions, thoughts of ideas growing, thoughts of concepts converting, thoughts of stories to tell, and thoughts of escaping.
Those elaborate thoughts and words begin to trickle out of the shadows from the man's body into the still, lifeless room. They stream out from the man's feet, back, ears, nose, mouth, and from the inside of his body, as if he was bleeding shadows on the canvas of his life. The words and thoughts took on their own life, becoming contagious, eating up all the white space. The words spread out as if his mind is screaming and shouting out all the thoughts and feelings he has ever had, for the whole white world of this room to know that he existed.
Soon, the room starts to crack, breaking, and falling into thin black lines from the words that continue to surface faster than before, spilling, gushing from the man's body. The words are now overlapping; the previous word that is marking in stain those white-wrecking walls of this seamless infinite room. The time, itself is being lost in all this conflict and battle of light and shadow, every minute passing by the white space slowly was converting into a space that was no longer a room.
The source of light crackles and eventually the light succumbs into a nearly inaudible crash, where all the remaining light pieces disperse and vanished in mid-air. The man finally escapes this reality illusion, because now there is only black space, and the words fade into the darkness, after a multitude of overlapping and overlaying together.
The man finds himself in the middle of this black space that stretches out where time no longer matters. He learns that he alone has the powers to change the environment at will and he is not afraid of darkness. In truth, light can't be erasing by itself, because the man has cast his shadow and sculpted his thoughts into words to consume everything around him and escape the lifeless white space.
In secret, the light he consumed became a small thing that rhythmically pumps a beat with a small electrical spark called a heart. This is how the man of many shadows came to love himself, knowing his existence in those heartbeats. And, in the silence between those beats his feelings are heard through his raging thoughts ultimately helping him become a human.
Only, now, with his beating heart and surrounded by darkness he became sad, and began to cry. Small glistening teardrops fall down his face onto his cheeks. His tears welling up with the light now inside him become the most beautiful reaction of all this mess, because it shows he couldn't control his feelings after all. These tears were the other bits of lights he had in himself consumed, they fell into the darkness and became the stars, floating forever in the vast expanse of the void that was once inside him.
This became the birth of balance in both light and darkness through day and night.