Black and white, day and night. Contrasts. There can only be one when the other exists. So it is not all that strange that a bright light casts an intense shadow.
We love and need the Sun. The morning light reassures us that life goes on and that there is still some sanity left in this mad world. Fire keeps us warm. It reminds us, though its nature is divine, that we are human- not machines.
But what would we feel when we are shown the night? The cold darkness? And told that the Sun will never rise again. Can we live like that?
This shadow, cast by a bright light I let become too white haunts me everyday. The light is not something within my control. I cannot choose when it will shine and when it will slip away. But having seen it, no other light seems bright enough. This shadow is where I live sometimes, the shadow that follows me from the dark hours of the night even into broad daylight.
It is right there but you cannot touch it. This objection is what makes me opaque- and I cast the shadow.
So whose fault is the shadow? The light’s or the object?