for many days, i waited. the clock didn't stop moving.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes, once falling, gradually dried and were then cracking.
my feet were stuck on the ground, with neither ropes nor chains.
and, my hands -- my hands -- were just mine, just mine.
days then turned into mornings -- hundreds of them.
with the settling of the sun, the mornings died and the days grew.
there were then years and nights -- now, in thousands.
with the black and the gray, the crickets sang their songs...
and the dew from the fog dropped their tears into lullabies -- but i couldn't sleep still.
drop, drop, drop.
yet, i still waited.
waited, waited and waited.
nothing still.
... then i got tired.
no, i got weary, but i wasn't tired.
i never could be.
tick, tick, tick.
my eyes were still there -- dismal, desolate, bleak, but still unhesitating.
i looked at my feet and my hands. they were motionless.
the veins that etched their surfaces still throbbed but I felt they were just playing dead sounds.
i was starting to unease my struggle and to finally give up the wait.
drop, drop, drop.
without warning, holes started appearing out of nowhere, piercing the darkness that seemed to have dwelt on the void for ages, like sirens shrieking, as if announcing the demise of the once lingering and persistent dormancy.
it was morning.
a new backdrop was set.
but, i was still in my pajamas...
and the milk, which had been on the table for years, was still warm.
what was happening?
although the morn had with it the prevalence of light,
the familiarity of solace,
the smell of yellow,
and the imminence of beginnings,
there was something different this time.
there was more.
i knew there was.
finally, i opened my eyes. now, fully.
i moved my feet and stood up.
and my hands -- my hands -- were no longer mine alone anymore.
The standstill was over
-- because in front of me, you were there.
