Does the Light in Darkness Love the Dark?

Does the light in darkness love the dark?
Is the depth of black punctured
with electric greens and blues
to shock? to awaken to life?
to horrify -- or entice?
Or, like a pagan Christ,
will you lead us out of our
slumbering Greek cave,
only to double back,
to retrace the ascent
through which you so skillfully led
the groping shadow-lovers,
and to find yourself again
the magnificent light
in the dark?

Or perhaps, cruel temptress,
you will lead us only farther
into the endless deep,
dark darkness,
you our false hope
of surface, air, light,
life.

Does the Light in Darkness Love the Dark?

Or maybe, more likely,
you proceed without why,
blessed by genetic mutations,
that just happened to save
your great, great, great, great,
great, great, great, great,
grandfather's skin --
scales?

I doubt that any of this
will send you spiraling
down
into the deep, dark,
cavernous depths
of a watery crisis
of existential angst.
In all likelihood,
you will swim on,
not knowing that you
should be thanking
your great, great, great, great,
great, great, great, great
grandfather
that you did not just become
that curious device's
afternoon -- evening? midnight? early morning? --
snack.