early morning dreams

In these early morning hours, I am yet again haunted by sleep’s evasion. I sit in my darkened room, listening to the icy rain beat upon the windows and the wind howling of its presence. I dream of far away places and recognize the hunger for adventure. The swelling passion to embark upon a journey of unknown destinations. In the darkness, my hunger grows and my dreams multiply. I am driving down an open road through barren desert, the mountains rising up in their magnificence behind me. I am standing on the ocean shore, breathing in the salty air and feeling the knowledge of a world far greater than my own. I am bathing in a waterfall, the natural waters dancing upon the warmth of my bare shoulders, reminding me of nature’s power and grace. Then the scene changes, the adventure becoming a companionship of warmth. I am lying by a fire, watching the snow fall in delicate sheets through a frosty window. My head is resting on his chest, and I am reading aloud the sensual romanticism of Neruda. In this dream, it is also the early morning hours, but sleep’s evasion is now a blessing, offering another moment of such pleasurable company. The wine flows freely, its warm richness soothing and sating the hunger.

“Pero tu y yo, amor mio, estamos juntos,
juntos desde la ropa a las raices,
juntos de otono, de agua, de caderas,
hasta ser solo tu, solo yo juntos.”

My eyes meet his, and the world fades away. The moment, our moment, is all that exists.