Black, black, black, black!
It is not a color.
It is oblivion!
It is the howl of a wolf in the distance, 
The inky darkness in the dead of night
The raven perched on a lonely branch above
Perhaps it is a darking, created of evil blood and
Made to spy on the innocent and righteous
It is funeral dirges, and the Void
It is of depression and sadness
And don't forget the choices it brings
Ringing of choices as the snake eats it's tail
And everything comes full circle
Completing eternity at the beginning of time
It is the mighty serpent out of the dark waters
To rise and destroy the invaders of it's territory.
It's the moon, waxing and waning
Under the watchful eye of the Caretaker.
It is the cold reality of truth
The ice water dumped over one's head
It is representative of what cannot be
And what must prevail for the greater good.
Protocol it is also
And protocol be damned!
It is the past
And the past is to be forgotten
It is the symbol of completion
And so goes hand in hand with Ing*
And it is one, as it is all . . .

*Ing- the Norse god of completion.