Sometimes the night is cruel

Sometimes, the night is cruel.

That is ultimately the fundamental lesson here, as thieves roam the streets, murderers claim their victims, and unseen creatures lurk in the shadows waiting for whatever prey they choose to devour.

Sometimes, the sounds start and they will not stop. Sometimes the night creatures moan and wail and sleep will not come.  Sometimes storms come in the dark and wreak havoc on the gentle earth.  Sometimes the moon doesn’t rise.  And sometimes, the nightmares come and tear our souls apart then leave us to the forlorn void of darkness.  

Sometimes, the night is cruel.  And always, when it is, we do the same thing.  We wait it out.  We whimper and shake, we watch for the sun to save the earth, we rebuild our spirits.  And we go on.  This is the price of living on this planet.  And also, arguably, the noblest expression.

Sometimes, the night is cruel, and you have no choice but to accept that as part of the bargain called life.  And when it is your turn to deal with it, you do.

But isn’t it always your turn?

Surely every shivering, tormented human being can be forgiven for thinking it is always their turn, just hours after the darkest night left their shaking body praying for relief from the terrors of their own mind, the endless torture.  Surely, the rest of us clinging to the day, experiencing desperation and hopelessness from the confines of our own homes, are tempted to believe the same thing.

Bad enough, humans are wretchedly fearful.  Bad enough we have a history of horrors occurring in the times without light, of murderers that slink into the houses of those sleeping who cannot save themselves.  Bad enough, all that, yet at the end of the day, these horrors are authored by human hands, by human greed, human insecurities, human exploitation of each other.

Sometimes, though, you have to wonder if the great powers above give us the night as a means of punishment for all the evils we do unto our own species.