Nyx- Nyx, night" (Greek) name of Greek goddess of the night
Amayanyx- Amayanyx, dark night (Ay-my- aw- nix )
Night's wings fly across the skies overhead, the deep eyes of the stars glancing down. Here is where I find comfort, in my namesake, my home. The oblivious, unfeeling day is chased away by the calming hand of night, like a mother encouraging a child to bed. And here under the moon, which changes even as the world turns, all is made equal. Away from the sun all biases are relived, and in the nearly silent night, I am freed by the calm and serenity.
Nyx. My name. The only thing that is true about me. I read once about someone who felt the same way as I, the affiliation to the night, but she was a vampire in a story written hundreds of years ago, before the world became the desert it is now, reduced to simple sparse foliage, before we were reduced to returning to the earth again, as we had been previously. I am not a vampire, though with my dark hair that never sits quite right and my nearly black eyes some may think so.
I suppose that my thoughts and views, and even waking hours, are not entirely regular for a person of my station. I spend more time reading and memorizing the scripts of old than wearing a crown or attending court, more time walking out in the harsh sun upon my horse, who is as unsuspecting as I am. We fade into the harsh backgrop of the surrounding dessert, unencumbered by the jewels and fake smiles I am expected to wear around others.
There are no shadows that do not darken something, covering it. People adore the sun for this, yet they abhor the night. Why? I think its because people hate what they don't know, and to many, in order to know something you have to be able to see it first.
But if I were to tell you a little secret then would you believe me? I cannot show you proof, but I know it's real, for I have felt it in the very marrow that lines my bones. My little secret is something we all know if we have the strength to be believe it, and the faith in whatever god it is you believe in to trust it:
Night is when humans were meant to live.
The sun is just like a piece of gold, that the greedy horde, not realizing that as they try to grasp it, the more it turns them from their calling the dark, not realizing the it has no worth except what it is given.
And dark is not evil. Dark is knowledge. If you can trust in yourself that something is true, even when veiled by the night, then you truly have the knowledge of its existence. For to doubt something is to unlearn it, and in order to teach you have to believe and know it. Light is a crutch on which the unsteady lean, unable to bear the thought that they and their supposed knowledge could be wrong.
Night is when things peaceful happen. When wars were fought on foot, on horse, on the ground it was in the day, but at night, all returned to camp, blaming it on the fact that you cannot fight during the night. But that's not what really called them back. What they were feeling was the human pull of the tidal flow of night, thinking that in their dreams they could sail into the day, escape their roots and the sun that they craved more than riches, not face the reality that the sun was a handicap.
Night is when all humans come alive. Lovers meet under balconies, and when the energy sources existed, would talk over electronic devices under sheets in bed to their friends, and they were all thrilled by the secrecy. But night is not secrecy, night is assurance.
I am not one to say that nothing bad ever happens at night. But the most pure fountain in the world is not entirely without some sort taint.
And here I sit on my balcony, over looking the town, asleep in all their passions, not realizing that they are missing the kindest part of the day. The wind whispers secrets in my ears, secrets that during the day go unheard. And the trees whistle and drum their appreciation of the night. Silhouetted against the sky the towers of the palace rise above the town, and the walls hold it in an embrace.
On the same token, I do not discriminate against the day, for all that it may sound. While I prefer the night, I bear the day neither hatred nor acrimony. I look at day as most people look at night- another part of life, and the part associated with evil, the wrong, the doubt.
Search within yourself. Think about it. Do you feel safe at night where you can hide and be safe, or safe in the day, where others can see you, judge you, give you a rating based on your face? Perhaps you are like everyone else who feels that in the night, you can't see who's out to get you. Or perhaps you are like me, who realizes that if you can't see something, it can't see you.
Humans are a proud race, brought to live on the earth walk on two feet, build civilization, buildings the height of the tallest trees, and taller, only to watch it fall at their own hands, to see it crumble along with the notion that the earth means nothing without a belt of cement and glass.
History knows that the day is when we all struggle to sort out our lives thinking that its harsh and obscuring light is more appealing to the eye than the honesty of night.
At the crack of dawn, people arise to the whip of day, leaving the balm of night. But do they care? No. They hope that each day will be better than the day before. It rarely is, and still they hope, convinced the light will not cast shadows the next day, not realizing hope is a denial of reality.
Still, they retain the hope that the day will be untarnished by the shadow. Yet no light exists without shadow. The sun burns and kills, is harsh and distorting. It creates mirages to all those who think they can best it, visions of torture, of what one cannot have. Is this what humans were meant to strive for? They do in the supposition that they capture the sun, make it theirs, master it, make the day bend to their will.
But I will tell you the sun will never submit. Night has told me this, as I have told myself. And I trust myself more than nearly anyone, because night has not the guile that the sun has, nor the cruel intentions of light to trick and tease. The light has, on the path to self-discovery, blinded many people, not as they went on not realizing that only in the night are all realities made clear.
