the darkness here is real. and on a cloudy night, when the stars and moon are veiled behind ghostly billows, and the concealment of all light has been achieved, i wonder at my existence. nothing is everywhere, enveloping me in it's void until, that is, my eyes adjust. i begin to see my hand in front of my face and the old douglas fir beside me, but the rest of what i know to be a hill and a house upon that hill is now only a testamant of my memory and a good flashlight. and the thing is: it's only 7oclock in southern oregon.