Beauty and Night

A passing soundbyte uttered by Joyce Meyer floated into my mind recently, concerning the concept of developing camera film. Memories returned of the dark room process photographers used to employ (you know, back in olden days, like about 10 years ago) to develop their photos.
That light starved air and heightened sense of touch: the opening, timing, stopping, fixing, rinsing, drying. Light can only then reveal the images.

Pondering the nature of development in the dark brought pearls to mind, as treasure created in hidden spaces devoid of light. And infants formed in dim human depths - viable only after the exact time of developing and then unveiled in light's introduction as tiny beings possessing the miracle of an independant beating heart. Jesus was born at night - far from the hustle of light but rather the dim shadows and humble audience of other night dwellers.

Being sealed off from the comforts of reason, vision, forecast, illumination, sparkle, insight, viewpoint or projection, seems to be a common qualifier for developing new things. At the right time, light always becomes the revealer and fruit ensues from shaded unseen places. Godly black-outs always have an end. Dawn will always follow night. And grief has a funny way of forcing an intimacy with the divine in the midnight hours.

There are some beautiful girls, both out in blog-world and those in hug-world, who are being processed in their own dark rooms. In particular right now Jennifer is walking a journey I cannot bear to imagine and many others on my blogroll have stunning reflections, etched with authenticity through their dark times. What would we do without the knowledge of a Saviour? Without our dark room moments to give light to the hope that we have in Him?

Beauty said to the Night
When will you leave? Take your cloak and your veil
And return me once more to the soft and the pale?

Beauty sang to the Night
Please I beg you be gone - I am afraid in this place.
I am hemmed in the folds of nocturnal embrace.

Beauty called out to Night
Is it long with you here? I am hunched up inside,
Caught in the dread of the blackest hours yet.

Beauty sobbed to the Night
My compass is blind, which way is the dawn?
How many hours till the onset of morn?

Beauty wailed to the Night
Be kind to me Night! Leave, I beseech.
Is darkness the only place you will teach?

Night gathered up Beauty
Quiet in his arms, voice broken with pain,
Tear-wet she blinked slowly in vain.

Night whispered to Beauty.
And crooned her a song
He wrapped up her hope in midnight's shawl strong.

Beauty slept in the arms
Of the guarding Night
While hope buried deep flickered alight

When Night crept away, dragging folds of his cloak,
Light dawned on the hope formed in spite of her pain,
And rose from the ashes where Beauty had lain.

Hope, that sweet gift granted deep in the night,
And birthed in the shadows of vision concealed,
In the law of the morning sees Beauty revealed.

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