The neighborhood has long since gone to sleep. A novel kept me up past the others, and so it is well into the morning when I call it a night.
I face the mirror, toothbrush in hand. Tapping and buzzing on the window screen call my attention. My bathroom light the only luminous presence in the night, beetles and other nighttime creatures had descended on the screen, desperately seeking the light.
Rinsing my mouth, I took my hand and flicked my finger at the screen, sending the insects back into the darkness.
Why?, I wondered as I climbed into bed. They only sought the light.
I fell asleep with a nagging question running through my head: How many times have I kept others from reaching their light?
Indeed, how many times have I kept others from reaching the Light?