when the soul seeks rest, it makes its way on invisible latitude lines towards the west, where the darkness kisses it first. when the bats of tuguegarao emerge from their cool caves at precisely 1820 hours every day, on the dot, guided by a preternal hand that points them towards the gathering dusk, they cannot ignore the need to feast. in the gloam, the world teems with life. when only the orbs of eyes gleam in the dark, the soul is replenished, the body renewed.just before day breaks, in that blackest moment before aurora's blush rims the eastern edge of the world, there one finds the deepest peace.
apollo's orb-laden chariot, streaking low across the eastern sky, is time for the soul to rejoice and dance. life-giving warmth infuses the entire being. another day. newness blossoms and morning glory embraces eternity in the span of 24 hours that is its lifetime. until the sun once more dips beyond the horizon and leaves us in shadow.
so it is with jumba night. you can find me here when darkness is draped over the soul. when these are thrown open in the morning light, my bikini self is ready for another day of baring flesh.
2 comments:
i can truly relate to this.
jey
thanks jey. before i gave birth, night was my refuge. my mind would come alive at the midnight hour. or the witching hour, as it were. :) *soft cackle*
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