The Wait

As it unfolds, some kind of rebirth, as foreseen, but still bound to awe... Despite having avoided it successfully, it now clings having been sent by you, as if magically, through invisible breath. Your heat perceived, I now am enveloped again in your absence, having occasional confort, as it brings me closer to you, your mind to mine connected, as if further wasn't necessary. That always seemed to be the way you saw us. But, then, I, with my so peculiar need for human grasp, have been left with a virtual touch of your care. I appreciate having been unerasable from your memory, as you've been my comfort all this time... I, then, though filled up with nothingness, couldn't help smiling.

As I reach the doors of myself anew, the physical reflection of a world built by my bare hands, I can clearly see the soon-to-be picture of emptiness surrounding me as I look around this new beginning, starting from scratch, so needy of your face as I'm openly ready again to give in. My defenses lowered, my fears left behind, no experiences to look back on and all ahead of us... Thriving in the joy of being fully sure all my effort has been real and you are worthy of my being utopian, for I have never been as secure as you've made it feel like. All is forgiven, all is past, all before was part of my crawling, all that has brought me closer to this very moment, when I can be sure the grief was necessary. But all is coming to an end.

As I remove the last thorn from my tired foot, I will sleep for one whole year, so as to be woken up by your arrival. Feeling alike, words will be unecessary, since we know each other as we've always known through the centuries. And though it aches now and my sight is quite blurred when it comes to your reality, just a glimpse of  me in your eyes has been enough to fire me up and lift me up higher. I'm about to tear apart this demise and it's the end of the line for a world I've forced myself to fit in. All is natural from now on, all is true. And I have, yet, to clean up what's left of this impenetrabe shell. I can see, now, as time is so futile. I'm in charge of time. I'm in charge of my own illusions.