I am never an early riser. I love staying in bed even after I’m awake, tangled in the sheets, clutching my favorite pillow, tightly, reveling in its welcoming warmth and comforting softness. Too many dreams to weave, some vivid others too vague… Too much scenes to be imagined, of distant past and more distant future, but never of now… And sunrise never waits… or maybe it does. But I take my time. And I’m taking too long until it can wait no more. So it leaves without me noticing it. It creeps away hiding its beauty without me realizing what I missed out.
Maybe it’s insomnia, the grandest of its kind. The kind that keeps you so busy to even think of sleep. The kind that makes you so awake and refuse invitations being offered by your ever faithful and persuasive bed. In the middle of the night, the nocturnal you breathes life in its fullest, drinks in its endlessly flowing being, bathes in its blinding lights of becoming. In silence, you think. You make. You write. In darkness, you dance. You create. You live. Time is immaterial. And, unaware, you wait. A glimpse of its marvel sneaking through the window. Yes, you wait. For sunrise never waits.
One of those few moments I caught a glimpse of sunrise. It’s a rarity these days.