Endings, (a June flashback) When the night’s song ends well

Morning breaks, shedding light on whatever was being concealed by night. Sometimes that is darkness. Indeed sometimes morning brings no solace. The headache or heartache or soul break of the night before persists. Made groggy and overwhelming for fitful sleep. Or lack thereof.

And sometimes morning heals. The misunderstandings and mistranslations of the night. The searching for who-knows-what beneath the sheets, with a stranger, with a friend, in the sandman’s oblivion. Sometimes the morning brings laughter- the light brightening the nooks and crannies of our minds. Birdsong removing the bittersweet taste to attempts at finding intimacy in a wineglass and another’s embrace.

Yes sometimes. Sometimes the morning with its fresh breeze of new light and new air – even in Santiago’s smog ball- provides a clam ending to an ephemeral (fugitive?) chapter in our lives, A night’s escape, a sinking into someone else, an intimacy given by chemistry, not time. Dawn gently announcing the end. An end sung in by Sigur Ros and birdsong. Light tenderly filtering through the yellow curtains, cradling the insecurities on the night, assuring us that some things are merely an end unto themselves.

What was the point?

None.

And it was good.