Maleficent seducing

I read today.
Men crawl through their lives cursing the darkness.

And we do.  So often.
Curse.

Under our breath.
In a fit of rage.
With body language loud.

And sometimes.
We don't even recognize it.

This cursing. 
This crawling through life.
This darkness.

And sometimes we do.
Recognize it. 

And celebrate it even.
Writing books.  Making movies. 
Darkness romanticized.
Sinister titillating.

The mysteries so deep. 
Of spiritual worlds.

A bogus sense of beauty.
Evil disguised as good.
Alluring. Tempting.

Requiring less of us.
We think.
So enjoying the ride.
Believing the lie.

This celebration of maleficent.
Lives misaligned.
Appearing beautiful.  Enticing.
Seducing our weary souls.

But then.

A day arrives. 

Personal darkness.
Like never before experienced.
Disappointment deep.
Drowning.  A black vortex.

And we do.
Find ourselves crawling.
Terrified.
If we were to admit it.

The evil, the tragedies.
Our own lack.
Unfairness and ugly of life.
Getting our attention.

Because the enemy; darkness.
Dressed up so well.  Disguised.
Tempting.  Seducing.
And beautiful.  For a while.
And we.  Thinking it loves us.

It doesn't.

And we.  No longer celebrating.

Anything.

But the story continues.
In what happened on that tree
when the nails hammered
and the Man hung.

And the sun disappeared.

A violent upheaval of the heavens.
A battle for good against evil.
Played out.  In real time.

Rescuing our own virtuoso attempts.
To decipher life.
To mitigate darkness.

Because.

When the Man hung.

The curse came undone.