The cold morning moments

I drempt of you…

You were wearing a silk dress,
gold anklet clinking as you ran down
a stone corridor, you turn the corner
and wait patiently for the limping wolf to catch up to you. You offer it tea, and it accepts,
you give it a name, Isoldä
You tell the wolf of your Hope’s and dreams for the future and your past struggles.
It shares the same. The conversation is muffled I watch from a distance.

In the other half of the dream, I was the wolf.
(…)

“It’s okay,
I know the toll it takes on you
to see me in the light.
As nurturing as the sun is,
very little can thrive in
eternal sunshine”
You said to me.

I, in all my imperfection , find myself
holy after bathing in your
infinite light that casts your angelic glow
on the stone , while you bottle me in the
waning minutes of daybreak
I let out a chilling agony filled howl.

Collapsing. I watch the shimmering moonlight mix with sun as your silk cascades around you.
The wind picks up and the sound is deafening.
My tea spilled on the cold stone…
Your face is concerned hoping I’ll recover encouraging me to stand.
I stand with great effort my head spinning. My body off balance....
..my spirit is strong but within I am in agony.
There’s more than one way to oblivion,
I know, I’ve been charting them for
as long as I can remember. And I know that no matter how much I struggle in the end I will perish. Still I struggle on. The smile on my face for the one who holds my heart. It stays there even when I fall.
Forever the limping wolf in an eternity of strife. Doing it for the woman who makes it worth it.
Lost in memories of our cold morning moments between dreams and pain.