She felt the warmth of the sunlight showering her face; lying parallel to the window, deep in sleep, enjoying a lovely dream – it was like a Disney moment; you know how the princess is curled up beside the window and the golden rays of the Sun fall upon her, coloring her up through the net covering the window? That.
She resisted opening her eyes, enjoying the coziness of the moment, when suddenly the chirping of the birds worked like a mellifluous alarm clock. It was so soothing, so beautiful, as if it were trying to tell her something – an insect’s secret, or the story of two young hearts, a mother’s prayer, or simply how sweet the nectar of the flower was. And mesmerized, she just lay there, enjoying the moment, smiling to herself, trying to whisper her secrets to those lovely birds because she knew they won’t betray her.
“Hey, little bird! How are you? ” she balanced herself on her elbows and moved closer to the window.
“So, how are things? How’re your folks?” she rubbed her sleepy eyes. “You know, you’re so incredibly lucky! You can spread out your wings and fly high and visit yellow meadows and jump from flower to flower and taste the purity of their sweetness and peep inside the kingdom of bees and understand the rustling syntax of the leaves and sing to celebrate spring and waltz with the hello of the rising Sun and play ‘Ring A Ring O Roses’ with friends like yourself and do absolutely so much more and live like I want to!”
She turned over and gazed at the ceiling and sighed,humming her new favourite.
these things of steel among the stars,
and weary men will still go up
to brutalize the placid moon.
There, they will found their pharmacies.
the wine begins to come to life
between the sea and the mountain ranges.
the dark mysterious girls are singing,
and in guitars, water is shining.
and making wonder of the wheat.
is sweet with the sweetness of a child,
the second wine is able-bodied,
strong like the voice of a sailor,
the third wine is a topaz, is
a poppy and fire in one.
my woman has great eyes
the colour of wild hazelnut,
when night comes down, the sea
puts on a dress of white and green,
and later the moon in the spindrift foam
dreams like a sea-green girl.
She turned her head to look towards her little friend and her face blossomed into a smile of gratitude.
“Well, little friend, I guess we have a lot to be grateful for, hun?”
Today was tomorrow’s past and the future of yesterday and the present of now. And she knew deep down that from the desert of The Beginning to the heavens of The Infinite, the testifiers of the Truth will be blessed with a mystic togetherness by He who Created them,and the inertia of her faith was exactly how it was supposed to be and she was glorified in that knowledge.
* ‘Lazybones’ by Pablo Nereuda,