The metaphor of light has been around for so long we’ve become numb to it.
See if you can unnumb (denumb?) yourself a bit.
Imagine the darkest place, the blackest night you have ever experienced.
Multiply it by a factor of infinity.
A blackness so complete it fills you, seeping in through your pores…crushing… suffocating. It’s every nightmare, every horror coalesced and distilled into a pure, inky nothing that will consume you.
That has consumed you.
Then, a light. It’s small at first, like a candle’s flame. Even so, the darkness recoils from it; hope rushes in to fill the space. The light grows and spreads until it fills you—or did it draw you into itself? Hard to tell. The nightmare, the horror, the emptiness are revealed as fluff and nonsense by the glory of the light.
Yeah, yeah, I know; the imagery is as old as time. But…
It’s true, you know.