No Light.    

A lasso of glowing truth wrapped around the neck of the person whose full conversion into shadow and bleakness stains even the most sanctimonious of beings; fading like a burning ember. There is no light that shines brighter than a dying star. With one implosion and whisperings of genius madness the underwhelming of true stimulation has no true power to resuscitate the beast of burden. Upon daybreak, it's the daylight which is the most violent. Peeking through the cracking and puffy white clouds; that what was once concealed by the blanket of shadow is soon revealed.  Glorious upon revelation we are confronted by the ugly truth; there is no light or shadow that can truly hide the hideous nature of truth and transparency. No mirror or smoke to hide behind and truly no real mystery as to the cause and effect of such calamity. Words can only band aid the surface of all wounds, the truth cut lies deeper within the skin; what can be said to aid such a losing cause.  A search  for a resolution is redundant, redemption out of the question. Options limited and hope all but lost. There in fractions of true deprivation and sorrow comes a deep and forever flowing vein full of iron. Heated to the point of explosion, like all good magic tricks it has many parts and stages. Heaven, a sanctuary of even the most desperate souls, has to be earned and desires. with dirt under the nails and the taste of blood. No light will ever truly feel like the garden of Eden.