the black lullaby

He comes out of an alcohol induced coma and the first thing he sees is the lightning on the wall. He studies the room carefully, his eyes searching for his own breath in the darkness. There is lightning once again. This time the flash enables him to see all the books around him. The room he is in is a library of some sort. He steps out of the bed and makes his way to one of the shelves, the cold outside makes him feel naked, even though he is clothed from neck to toe.

His eyes have now adjusted themselves to the darkness and so he reaches for one of the books. He knows the writing. It isn’t his, but it is about him. He recognizes the words, each and every one of them. He knows the story, it is his own. He scans the room again and it dawns on him. These are all the chapters of his life spread out before him. There is more lightning, it is harsh and stings his eyes when it flashes through the windows. He covers his ears quickly because he knows that an ungodly sound of thunder is to follow. It does. A book falls off one of the shelves. He walks over to it and picks it up and then, begins to read it.

***

What does not matter to you will continue to not matter through every season that changes. Through the hot and the cold, the light and the dark, the good and the bad, that which means nothing will continue to mean nothing. But that which does mean something takes control of all your emotions. When something that matters to you is taken away, the world, according to you, begins to change. Your mornings and your nights start merging and it becomes difficult to tell between what is right and wrong.

I know these things because I’ve had something that mattered to me taken away once. No. Not taken away. I lost it because of my foolish ways and my immature beliefs. I understood what it felt like to hate and it consumed me. My tongue was dry with a thirst for blood and in my mind the devil had created his workshop.

The funny thing about love and hate is that they don’t exist without each other. For to hate someone you must love them first. Hate is as much an offspring of love as Lucifer is of heaven.

But as we all find out in time, love builds where hate destroys. I’ve loved and hated in equal measure and I have held on to the kind of pain that no one should feel. But… in letting it go I’ve also discovered a kind of freedom and beauty that makes me whole, at last.

***

There was confusion upon his lips. He remembered this chapter of his life. He remembered it all too well. But he did not remember the last paragraph. Where had it come from? Its presence on the page somehow completed the chapter. But that was the thing. This was the one chapter that had always remained incomplete. He had grown certain that that was how it would be forever and ever. But now, it was complete. There was a smile on his face and he didn’t know why. There was happiness in his heart. He couldn’t understand it. The storm outside was slowly passing. He could hear the sun preparing to rise in the distance. The happiness inside his heart grew and grew and grew until he thought he was dreaming. He wasn’t.

He understood at last that he had forgiven and had been forgiven. He walked over to his bed once again and looked out the window. The rain was slowly ceasing. He gazed into the gloomy sky and said: ‘thank you’ and then lay back on his bed. It was then that he noticed a yellow rose on his pillow with a note attached to it. He picked up the rose and quickly read the note. There came yet another smile that occupied his face with no intention of leaving anytime soon as tears of joy rolled down his cheeks.

The note read: ‘you are welcome’.