A boy wakes up one day to find that all light had left his world.
He fumbles out of bed and into his clothes by touch, and stumbles down to the kitchen guided by a smell. Walking to the bus stop is a little tricky, but he has walked it enough to know how the turns, listening carefully for cars at each intersection after feeling the curb. On and on his days go, using his other four senses to find creative workarounds for the defecit of light.Soon he begins to see things the light had blinded him from. He learns to trust people based on how they act, not how they look. His tastes grow more adventurous when he can only judge something based on the smell. Having no idea what he looks like, he lets his hair grow long because he enjoys the sensation of wind travelling through it and begins to wear only clothing that feels good against his skin. Where once his mind was filled with darkness, the new colours of delicate smells and fragile sounds populate his mind.Then the light returns to his world. At first he is cautious to even open his eyes, worried that his others senses might be pushed out by the overwhelming stimuli. Slowly he begins to see again, admiring how well the colour of the grass matches up to the smell and feel of it. In time, he begins see his room as both a sum of the smaller sensations and as a cohesive picture. He walks through his new world finding the joy of unity in the light and the comfort of specificity the dark.In Genesis, God does not simply create light, but seperates it from dark. Like land and sea, the two have been seperated so that we can rejoice in their comingling. The farmer might only pray for rain in a drought, and the sailor for land only when he is seasick, but the rabbi walks along the stream at dusk and appreciates the balance.