Mientras espero

If only there was a Greek Theatre near by, midnight would have been nothing but a deja-vu. When less expected, from behind a tree, it appears once again. A single wondering idea comes stumbling through a chain of thought, but she is not an idea. Tonight, the case is so, for a different reason. Maybe one could say we are speaking of the same thing, but she is not a thing.

She came stumbling, for a change, making her arrival more noticeable yet untraceable. In the meanwhile, as she found her way through me, I was still far away sitting at the steps two steps from my door.

If I only had a Greek Theatre, I could have ran by it without noticing it.

There are some nights that will stay with us for ever. Not a night like tonight though, which I wish could ran as I intend to. where? I ask myself, since this thought came as quick to the screen as it seems inadequate. But I run from no one nor anything. What is dear to me can never be touched but witnessed, it can never be held. What is dear to me cannot be written and can never be traced. Thus, it gets clearer every time she comes around that what is dear can only be found.

No thought nor thing could ever make me feel, as I puffed my cigarette, that warmth could also come from the inside. What is dear to me has no respect for anything but a daring sense of life. Tonight, she came stumbling, and I thank her for that. Her undeniable presence makes it clear that, my dear, is my life.

As for where I am running to, it cannot be described.