Spring Cleaning

With Spring comes cleaning. I hear it in the voices of the wind. I hear it in the leaves. I hear it in the buds still too shy to show themselves.

The village is beginning. They open their windows and cleanse themselves. They purify their homes and clothes. They purify their pantries. A day is coming and they ready for it.

“I never knew it could be so clean,” they say. But what they mean is, “I never knew it could be so dirty.”

They never knew it could be so dirty. They had always imagined things were cleaner, brighter, in better repair. They never bothered to clean because it wasn't that dirty. But they didn't know dirt when they saw it.

How can they know cleanliness if all they have seen is dirt? How can they look around and say, “This is clean and that is not.” How can they know?

I suppose they must look to the stars. I suppose they must look up at the night sky and marvel at the light. I suppose they must look and see the single points of light scattered across a background of darkness. And then I suppose they must go back into their houses and look around. They will see. That crack is the only clean thing in the wall. That nail is the only clean thing in the roof. That piece of straw is the only clean thing in the bedroom.

They will see the house is not as clean as they thought. They will see that dirt reigns as darkness reigns in the sky. But the darkness cannot put out the light.

One day, the villagers will look up and see that darkness has gone. They will see that all dirt has been swept away and only cleanliness remains. Only cleanliness. The stars have mastered the heavens and the darkness has faded.