As I plunge deeper into Blackness, there is nothing but light. As I emerge from the shadows of my own Blackness, I see color. The deeper I go; the Blacker I get.
A misguided negro misquoted a wise man by saying, “soul has no color”, but let me correct you my friend, the color of soul is Black! Deeper still, if friendship is essential to the soul, then so is Blackness.
Black is a color; the opposite is to be void of color. Black is the color assigned to us, to make us imperfect. Black is the color assigned to the most dangerous snowy white slopes. Isn’t the whiteness dangerous?
Blackness was meant to be taboo, even for us assigned to it. Now I dive headlong into it. As I journey deeper, the light, my internal light, fed by my trek, blinds some and burns others, I smile as they shrink from its brilliance.
Blackness shines on me and my Blackness glistens in its light. The journey is not down into but an ascension on a crystal stair, if you will, tacks and splinters included.
Knowledge and Blackness are superpowers, the Ancestors demand that I embrace it.
