When I dance in the Yukon cold or a crowded hall, I choose a light that holds the dark without being swallowed

At first, I tried to outrun it with noise. I would fill the car with music, podcasts, calls, and plans. I treated joy like a shield. If I stayed bright enough, maybe nothing dark could touch me. But that kind of positivity is like a thin jacket in a northern winter. It looks fine until the wind changes. Then it fails, and you feel foolish for believing it was protection.