The Laughing Dark

There are two types of laughter
One
Readily acknowledged happy loud and alive

Two
Is an ugly smear delighting in cruelty
Two
white eyes gleaming in the dark


They call it the laughing dark
The sort of things you'd never imagine
Hide in it and are part of it

It was inside us first they say
There it lay one day
Till it was unleashed

A shaman of old
He told of two forces
It was said he laughed also
A shrill shriek of a laugh
It seemed to ripple red

What manner of magic or craft
He Used cannot be said but
One night the dark light in
The corners of his eye
Became something tangible

Soon it fed and grew
Because as it was part of him
It was also part of us
You weren't surprised though
Where you?
You knew about the two types
When I began

I knew it
As I knew it when the telling was
Done for me
The sort of knowing best forgotten
Or at least that is the lie your mind hides conspicuously from you
Now you know of it

But you shall not see it
Only feel it
its eyes are not the sort
That Lurk in our world of light
It laughs at such notions

Look now outside
Hear the sounds of dark
That is not their sound
The crickets are gentle and the wind
Tonight is calm
All these things you know also

And it is close
It will make itself plain
All the feelings and sensation
You've carried all that you did not see
You will not soon forget
Nor will it
It thinks as do we

The laughing dark
Now you know it
But you will feel it better in time
And perhaps you will tell someone else of it
Perhaps then you will know
What it truly is...