Light is corruption

Virgina Woolf wrote, in her final moments on this Earth:

"Now is life very solid or very shifting? I am haunted by the two contradictions. This has gone on forever; goes down to the bottom of the world — this moment I stand on. Also it is transitory, flying, diaphanous. I shall pass like a cloud on the waves. Perhaps it may be that though we change, one flying after another, so quick, so quick, yet we are somehow successive and continuous we human beings, and show the light through. But what is the light?"

To which I reply: light is the source of corruption. Not our eyes, not our minds, but light itself, the tool of an evil demiurge sitting in a throne on the Sun, preying on our weakness and despair. We have grown to rely on our shackles, ever afraid of the dark. But only in the dark we can hear the hum of the Universe, the true forlorn God. Sound touches things deep, while light only brushes surfaces.