In the beginning, before the first spark of light split the void, there was only darkness—endless, deep, and quiet. It cradled the universe in its embrace like a mother holding the promise of all things yet to come. This darkness was not empty, not a void of nothingness, but a rich, fertile expanse, teeming with the potential of creation. It had a depth that could swallow the stars, a depth that whispered the secrets of existence to those willing to listen.

This was not a darkness to be feared. It was the womb of all life. In its vastness, the seeds of galaxies floated, waiting for the right moment to burst forth into being. But there was no rush. Darkness was patient. It knew that growth requires time and that the roots of the universe needed to dig deep before the first tendrils of light could stretch across the heavens.

In this primeval darkness, there was a tremendous power—an ancient, nourishing energy that fed the roots of creation. Just as the soil feeds the seed buried within it, the darkness nurtured the universe in its infancy. It was the gentle hand that coaxed life from the deep, the whisper that encouraged the first heartbeat of a star.

For within darkness lies potential, a truth we often overlook in our pursuit of light. We are taught to fear the shadows, to believe that nothing good can come from the unseen, the unknown. But the truth is that darkness is the source of all things. It is in the stillness of night that dreams take shape, that the mind wanders into the realms of possibility. It is in the quiet of the dark that the soul finds solace, that the heart gathers strength for the trials of the day.

Consider the roots of a tree, buried deep within the earth. They are unseen, hidden from the light, but it is here, in the darkness, that the tree draws its sustenance. The roots stretch out, seeking water, seeking nourishment, and it is in this unseen labor that the strength of the tree is built. Without the darkness of the earth, there would be no towering oak, no fruit to bear. The darkness is essential; it is the silent force that feeds life.

So too are we fed by darkness. In the quiet moments, in the depths of our own inner night, we are nourished. When the world becomes too bright, too harsh, it is in the retreat to our own shadows that we find respite. We withdraw into ourselves, into the fertile soil of our being, and there we are renewed. It is a paradox, perhaps, that from the depths of darkness we draw the strength to face the light, but it is a paradox that lies at the heart of life itself.

The night sky, with its deep, inky blackness, is not merely a backdrop for the stars. It is a reminder of the vast, unseen forces that shape our lives. The darkness between the stars is not empty; it is full of possibility, of worlds yet unborn, of stories yet untold. The light may show us what is, but the darkness shows us what could be. It is in the darkness that our imaginations are free to roam, that our spirits are free to dream.

In the end, we must learn to embrace the darkness, to see it not as a void to be filled, but as a space to be nurtured. It is a place of rest, of growth, of endless potential. Darkness has a depth that we cannot fully comprehend, a depth that holds within it the power to create, to nourish, to sustain. It is the silent partner in the dance of existence, the unseen force that makes all things possible.

So the next time you find yourself in the darkness, do not be afraid. Do not rush to banish it with light. Instead, sit with it, listen to it, let it nourish you. For in the darkness lies the strength you seek, the dreams you long to realise, the life you are meant to live. Darkness is not the absence of light; it is the presence of possibility. It is the source of all that is, and all that ever will be.