Dawn is breaking. The shadows try to assert their dominance—in vain. Day is breaking, and even their ally, the overcast sky, begins to retreat.
The shadows gathered. They summoned the cloudy sky and tried to prevent the sun from rising. Then they called upon a wise old man and asked for his counsel.
The old man, as though long prepared for the moment, smiled and said: “It is futile to try to confine the light, because that is how the world is made.”
Troubled, the shadows replied in one voice: “Wise old man, please tell us: what is the answer, and which path is right?”
He smiled again. “There are no ready-made answers. It is enough to follow the right path—the one your heart reveals.”
The questions continued, always ending with the same refrain: “We cannot understand. We cannot decide.” Then the voices subsided.
With a deep sigh, the wise old man looked at the shadows and then raised his eyes toward the light. “But it is so simple. The choice between light and darkness is shaped by what you truly feel—by the hope of finding your own light, looking toward it and allowing it to warm you. It becomes clear when what you feel matters more than expediency and obligation; when appearances give way to substance.”
Dawn arrived, and the shadows withdrew.
Smiles returned to the company of light, multiplied by the old man’s words. A few shadows—fortunately not many—retreated into dark places, waiting for the darkness that was their own sun: a place where they could feel important and continue the ancient struggle between shadow and light.
Dawn arrived.
Dedicated.