Once when there was nothing—
nothing,
nothing,
nothing at all—
no sky,
no sun,
no moon or stars,
no rain, snow, or rainbows
no puppies to chase after
and no laughter...
no peanut butter or butterflies,
or elephants, lions, or tigers,
and not even any teddy bears...
What was there then, you may ask?
nothing but endless black nothing,
but then something,
something, wonderful happened....
“Who are you?” roared a great tumbling,
rumbling voice that shook the great blackness
with winds wilder than all the winds
that would ever blow on the earth.
And as the voice rumbled and tumbled
the blackness grew, and grew, and grew
into a great, and greater, and still greater dark monster
who repeated, WHO ARE YOU?
“I am,
I am,
I am, I am, I am”
sang a sweet as morning light golden little being
who was zipping about from
here to there
to nowhere in particular
in the endless blackness.
“You are messing up my darkness, my nothing!
Go away! Go away now! yelled the dark monster.
“I can’t go away,” said the golden little being
as he went swinging and singing through the darkness.
“Why not?” demanded the darkness.
“I’ve come for a very good reason.
I must stay for a very, very long time,
in fact, forever.”
“If you aren’t gone by when I count to three,
I am going to eat you!” screamed the dark monster,
and he began to count,
One! and he grew larger
Two! and he grew larger
Three! and he was as larger as all the darkness
And he poured every bit of his darkness onto the golden little being and ate him all up in one giant great gulp.
“There, I’m rid of it!” declared the monster.
But he felt a tickle, and when he looked down at where his belly button would have been had he been born from a mother, he saw the golden little being beaming up at him.
The monster shook and shuddered and screamed,
“I told you to leave!”
“And I told you I can’t leave.
I’ve come for a very good reason,
and must stay for a very long time;
in fact, I must stay forever,”
sang the golden little being.
“What good reason?”
grumbled and rumbled the darkness.
“To make suns, stars and moons
and then to sing the spinning song
that will weave the earth into being,
so life will grow from the Sun’s golden light.”
“You can’t make all of those things!
You can’t! You can’t! You can’t!” shouted the darkness.
You will mess up my darkness.
You will break my nothing in a million somethings!”
“But I must make a home for life,”
sang the golden little being.
“A home for life?
What is life?”
asked the darkness feeling just a little bit curious
for the very first time.
“Life is, is wonderful!” sang the golden little being.
Life is trees and flowers growing.
Life is sparkling clear streams flowing.
Life is boys and girls growing,”
rejoiced the little golden being.
“I hate life!” screamed the dark monster.
“You hate life?” asked the golden little being.
“Why do you hate life?”
There was a long silence
while the dark monster did something
he had never done before—
he thought and as he thought
he grew a brain so it might think better,
and then he thought some more.
‘I hate life because...
because I’m afraid life hates me.”
“Life doesn’t hate you.
Life likes you.
Life likes you very much,”
the golden little being answered
Why does life like me?” asked the quite surprised darkness.
“People wait for you to come at the end of every day.”
“Why do people wait for me?”
“Because you bring everyone home.
You make dinner time.
You bring the beautiful moon and stars.
And at bedtime you bring stories that rhyme.
Then your gentle darkness tells everyone
it’s time for sweet sleep and gentle dreams.”
“Life likes me because I bring the moon and stars and dinner time and sleep?” asked the darkness.
“Oh, yes, life likes you very much.
“How do you know life likes me?”
Life has given you a special name.”
“What’s my name?”
“You are called the night.”
“The night... the night... what a nice name...
The night isn’t a scary name.
The night is a gentle name.”
“It’s a beautiful name,” agreed the golden little being.
“Yes, I like my name.
I am the night.
I am. I am.
I am the soft darkness.
I am the night...
Does my darkness make people think I am bad and mad?
“No, people don’t think you’re bad and mad.
They think you are good,
and that you make the world
exactly the way it should be.”
“They do? How do you know?”
“Because as people kiss and hug
and lie down to go to sleep,
they say, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” said the darkness,
smiling at all the twinkling stars,
at all the spinning planets,
at all the glowing moons
the golden little being
had set to spinning in the blackness.
“Good night,” sang the golden little being.
“Goodnight. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Goodnight,” sang the smiling night
and from his darkness shined
then, now, and forever
the most beautiful light that was
soft as the softest wind.
“Goodnight. Goodnight. Goodnight.”
