The darkness knows what the light refuses to see. I stopped fearing the shadows when I realized what lived in the light. Some ghosts never needed a grave, and some shadows are made of things we never say. Somewhere between chaos and silence, between losing the light and finding myself, I stopped searching. Perhaps the darkness was never empty; perhaps I was simply afraid to look. Even the moon has a side it never shows, and I carry entire galaxies that have forgotten how to shine. I owe no explanation to the shadows. Not everything that disappears wants to be found. Some nights never end; they only learn to look like mornings. And in the end, darkness doesn’t hide everything. Sometimes, it reveals.