Sunrise Stories.

I spent a sleepless night, which rarely happens to me, in a rosy July. The warm room air is as pink as a night rose, its petals enclosed primly, not allowing any exposure or light to peek through. I spend the last moments of the night seeing what lies in the colours of the dark and the approaching sun rays, and I am inspired and alive.

I’ve never decided to surrender sleep before, but it’s a new beginning. A new discovery, unravelling what the darkness has to offer. It’s a time to see the pictures swarming in my mind, to make sense of the surroundings, to build a home of grounding realisations, to keep going no matter how unclear and messy it is.

And dearest, perhaps the best part, is watching you sleep. Your eyes closed, your brows relaxed, arching beautifully across the horizon of your forehead. I look at it, how it wrinkles and softens as you speak, even when you stay silent. With your eyes closed, you’re like a cosmos, bursts of thoughts orbiting the inside of your mind. I cannot see any of it, only the peace you leave with your soft breathing and inaudible murmurs. I lay my head on your chest and listen to the words so dear to me expand as the air is forced in so gently, gets warmed by your truth and courage. I listen to your heart beating, oozing symphonies of unspoken fervour and I wish I could understand all the languages your world speaks.

Dearest, you do not always tell me everything. Sometimes you find yourself lost for words and wish I’d find a way to understand. I often laugh and tell you that we will find a way eventually, but you know that it sparks a curiosity so eagerly confusing. I wonder what fears and troubles you are burying inside, waiting to be resolved, till you are healed and can tell me openly about what you had figured out. You figure out the most unearthly truths, ones that teach me so humbly. As you lay asleep, I can see your darkened eyes hiding some of your issues and I wish I could do whatever it takes to open them up.

But I learn patience from you, dearest. I learn that as you keep your eyes closed, I should respect your explorations. I ought to wait until you had connected the dots and can tell me about it all so clearly, the way you like it. The way it doesn’t hurt to keep talking, to look me straight in the eye.

Because you look away each time you find that you’ve got so much left to do. I wonder if you think it’s okay. I wonder if you forgive yourself so richly and warmly, just as I forgive you.

The room suddenly transforms as the light opens the window and blithely says good morning. I smile widely and clutch at your hands lovingly. I know you’ll make it. I know you’ll figure it out. I know that those eyes will soon speak to me openly, and I’ll listen to your stories just as the darkness of your irises collide with the sun beams you collect as you smile.

I sit up, feeling quite flustered from the heat and that slowly wakes you up, too. You smile at the world— an expression of gratitude, the mystery you’re unfolding, then you smile at me. Your eyes are much brighter, your smile so lustrous. I tell you that I’m patient with my own irises, hoping you’d understand, and you do. You can see it.

You pull me in close, apologising without words, and I accept it. I accept the silence. I accept that you’re doing just fine, fighting all alone, changing your inner world. And as much as I want to touch it curiously, I do not want to get burned. I trust that you’ll tame the wildness.

I trust you with all my love and patience, my dear soul.