The Beauty of the Black

Black is just an absence,
This is what I'm taught,
That lack of light and color,
Results solely in naught.

I've been clearly told,
That darkness is foreign.
That shadows come from evil,
That only light should win.

It seems to be that color,
Is favored for its tone,
But one seems just ignored,
For it is all alone.

For nothing stands with nothing,

And nothing's all it's got.

It cannot grow. It cannot change.
It cannot even rot.

But is this blackness evil?
Is brightness all that's true?
Can all my darkness be what's right?

The black with white anew?

Suffering is not the bad,
And pain is not a lack.
For I feel clear and potent,
The Beauty of the Black.