Fanfares and flags unfurled with the new light of a new day. Those listening could hear the echoes of victory foretold; those unattuned to such sorcery simply sampled the sweet music of joy. Voices lifted, choruses swelled. Someone danced across the grand avenue, another joined in. This was how the tide was turned; one action, joined by another, and another, and on. A gathering of power. A commonweal of good will put to action.
Those there drank the clearing like manna, as if the blue tide of it in the sky would ebb, but the departure of darkness seemed, somehow, permanent. Something had changed about the relationship between the combatants. It was as if the acceptance of a preternatural ebb and flow of dominance had ended.
Light still tarries with its rival. It needs to be vigilant within the dynamic of the natural order. Dark clouds can gather on the horizon. Night falls. The light respects all of this, but it may never again long for the false promises of evening’s embrace.