Before Morning

Before morning my eyes open to see a dimly lit room: Room of the ages, room without towers, there is nothing for you to hide so why immerse yourself in this fragile darkness? I know all your secrets for your secrets are mine; they are sectrets that like thoughts grip the soul dangling from the cliff face and make it want to let go.Just let go.Your secrets are my thoughts, my thoughts are your secrets.I don't want to share them with you, but you are always there, and you never turn your face away like a friend without a life.

I try to go back to sleep, so as not to look into your critical grey eyes.But I cannot sleep; sleep is a mistress who must be treated properly, now that I have left her she will not take me back until she forgives me tonight.I do not want to awake either, there is nothing to interest me in the world of those who walk.They either walk into street lights or they walk head first into the fat thighs of a black woman called greed.So I launder here; neither asleep nor awake and my mind is no longer my own.It wanders through new-born valleys of buried words and colorless flowers only to return with ideas that have solitude painted across their face.And without remorse and exception my lonesome travelling mind always finds its way, despite my objections, to her.

I do not know wether she is half-alive or half-dead, her name flickers through the air like a mosquito evading my punches.In my cocoon of sheets, she is somehow incorporeal.She has no name, her face is a meddley of forgotten images, and her voice is muted by the singing birds outside mu window.She is a feeling.Not just one feeling: feelings are never monogamous they sleep with every emotion and memory and then beget, instantly, regret, love, anger until they are made into dust by the machinations of the world.These feelings come with undeniable force, like the feelings that come after a night of endless dreams.They enter the forest of your heart; knock down trees of nostalgic oak, they resurrect limbless skeletons from the regretful soil, then they leave on a weeping cloud never to be seen again, leaving behind a trail of destruction in your heart of hearts.

I see now or rather feel now: the time you kissed my hand nine times on darkened stairs.Remember how that felt? O you must for your face glowed so beautifully.Remember the time you jumped into my arms near the shaky banister? You were so light and wonderful, are you still as light now or have you gained some weight? Well you know I don't mind.And remember the time on a bench next to the burning beach, when you made me feel proud of myself with your star-lit words? Of course you remember, it made you so happy seeing me kiss the sky.You were pure, yes you really were.Memories aren't as intimidating when seen up close.We were very much the same.Are we still? Have we been made to carry a different cross? I think I better awake now for the world of the walking does not seem so bad when filled with the promise of your golden answers.