JSYK37: Six O'clock
For a week now, I have opened my eyes in the morning and lain unmoving for an hour. Six o'clock is such a dreadful time to start one's day. The sun has not been able to warm the world or fill it with ample light to see. So, I refuse to admit that it is the beginning of my day, but merely an extension of the dream I can't remember. Perhaps it would have been better to stay asleep, because now that I have kept a dream going past it's end, it grows stale. Hard and cold realities cover it and take away its beauty until all I have left is the dark before the dawn. And what is there to do in the darkness but think?
Some of the greatest minds in the world thought things. Some of the minds of in this world even thought great things. They thought of clear things and cloudy things, of better things and bigger things, and some of these things were thought of at six o'clock in the morning.
Just before the sun comes up, I think of opening my eyes. I think of the hands on the clock. I think of the hours in a morning, the minutes in an hour and the seconds in a minute. I think of my foot that has apparently managed to stay asleep a few moments longer than me. I think about how warm my hands are underneath the sheets I only feel. I think about a word that I can almost remember if I turn my head the right way. I think about a song that I once heard, a book I haven't read, and a day I've yet to live. No, not yet. I think of how things used to be. I think of a memory that I'm not completely sure happened. I think of things I said wonderfully and things I wish that I had said long ago. I think of perfect moments that dulled around the edges from being thought of every morning. I think of all the people I'm glad I've met and all the people I'm going to meet today. No, not yet! I think of the darkness in front of my nose. I think of how calm it is in the dark. I think of things that could destroy the calm. I think of things I fear and fear the things of which I think. I think of a Light that shatters darkness and fear from before I started thinking. I think of a shining city and a face I cannot imagine. I think of a face I've nearly forgotten that speaks to me from a thousand miles away. I think of decisions not made and feelings untold and stories unwritten and great minds who probably did not know what they were getting into. I think of seconds in a minute, minutes in an hour, hours in a morning, and a morning that begins at seven. I think of three. I think of two. I think of one.
Then, I give in.
Some of the greatest minds in the world thought things. Some of the minds of in this world even thought great things. They thought of clear things and cloudy things, of better things and bigger things, and some of these things were thought of at six o'clock in the morning.
Just before the sun comes up, I think of opening my eyes. I think of the hands on the clock. I think of the hours in a morning, the minutes in an hour and the seconds in a minute. I think of my foot that has apparently managed to stay asleep a few moments longer than me. I think about how warm my hands are underneath the sheets I only feel. I think about a word that I can almost remember if I turn my head the right way. I think about a song that I once heard, a book I haven't read, and a day I've yet to live. No, not yet. I think of how things used to be. I think of a memory that I'm not completely sure happened. I think of things I said wonderfully and things I wish that I had said long ago. I think of perfect moments that dulled around the edges from being thought of every morning. I think of all the people I'm glad I've met and all the people I'm going to meet today. No, not yet! I think of the darkness in front of my nose. I think of how calm it is in the dark. I think of things that could destroy the calm. I think of things I fear and fear the things of which I think. I think of a Light that shatters darkness and fear from before I started thinking. I think of a shining city and a face I cannot imagine. I think of a face I've nearly forgotten that speaks to me from a thousand miles away. I think of decisions not made and feelings untold and stories unwritten and great minds who probably did not know what they were getting into. I think of seconds in a minute, minutes in an hour, hours in a morning, and a morning that begins at seven. I think of three. I think of two. I think of one.
Then, I give in.
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