dreams

Catch the sunlight

In these early hours of the morning, when all the dreams and wishes of the world lay in the palm of your hand, everything seems possible. Sunrise stretches over this ancient earth, but each morning it feels as soft and supple as a newborn baby,  like fresh snow awaiting footprints to carve a path into its canvas.

Push past the dreary remnants of sleep, the exhaustion that fills your bones, and the dread of the coming day. Push it all to the side. Listen to the songs of the morning birds, those that are ready to chase their purpose with every fibre in their tiny feathers. Those that chase the sunlight.

Spread the prayer rug out and let your forehead touch the worn fabric. Whisper words of wishes and hopes, to the only One who listens. Listens to the fears of frightened souls who have hearts too fragile to hold the world’s pain.

Go outside and embrace the breeze–cold and shocking at first–and feel goosebumps tickle the surface of your skin. Then catch the sunlight as it rises across a sleepy sky, until the warmth spreads over and fills you up from the inside.

In those earliest hours of the morning, when everything seems possible. When years of muddled confusions evaporate and you are left with a clarity as clear as polished glass. A clarity of purpose, of intention.

Take a deep breath. Look in the mirror and see your future staring back at you, waiting for you to take hold of it. Waiting for you to catch it in the palm of your hands, your eyes ablaze with the euphoria of eternal victory.

Another adventure

So I can’t travel right now. So let’s travel together.

Let’s get away from these buildings and bricks with right angles and rectangles. From these streets with double yellow lines. Run away from the cars and zebra crossings.

To see real zebras, crossing. Let’s walk through a savannah, a rainforest, a desert. Making footprints wherever we go so the squirrels can follow us while we follow the birds.

Lie under the galaxy watching shooting stars fizzle into the sky and the seven heavens rotating around us while we sleep by a fire and wake up to the sun burning down, scorching our skin, the greatest alarm clock ever.

Sit by the sea waiting for the tide to come in. Listening to the whoosh of the waves collapsing into one another. Sit on the cold sand of an English coast waiting for nightfall.

We can stroll through a lavender field at the peak of its season, the fragrance clinging to your clothes. Sit under the central tree watching the last golden rays glimpse past fierce purple whilst we take a picnic at sundown.

Or we could play hide and seek in a forest. With tree trunks so tall and thin that you’ll find me easily. But that’s fine, as long as we’re meandering through the autumn leaves, hearing their crunch beneath our boots. And the birds sing their morning greetings.

Let’s traipse through an Arctic desert, spend a night in an igloo, trying not to slip on the ice. Wearing three layers of socks and yet the cold still tickles our feet. Waking up beneath a mountain so majestically big and gloriously grand with snow capped peaks that remind you of the froth on a latte.

And suddenly you’re back. In that same London cafe. While the rain drops slide down the window, merging into one another. Blurring the traffic lights and headlamps behind.

So you long for that journey. But it’ll stay in your mind for now.

In another universe, another time, another space. Another adventure that will never take place.

 

Written: 27/12/2014