Caedmon Comma

My son,

Late in the night, while we are all asleep, there is a shadow that sometimes passes through the house. It is a small shadow, and brief. It is hardly noticeable as it moves across the thresholds and window panes. But, it is there, nonetheless. It is a nocturnal constant.

It appears every time our skeptical, sleeping minds reject some impossible alternative mirage.

Our waking reality imposes itself. Our waking reality demands control, it over powers the flighty nonsense and enforces discipline. Follow the rules, it insists.

The alternative mirage won't take that shit. It can't be constrained or defined. It has to be wild and reckless. So, it slips away, quiet as a small shadow, so as not to wake us.    


Lost in Shadow,

Dad