I have a recurring daydream,
One that only wandered into my mind by chance,
Like a sugary wind, weaving and roving through the branches,
Whistling the song of good news.
It begins with my hands pushing my glasses from the perch of my nose,
To the top of my head, causing the clarity I once knew to abandon me.
My left eye is so weak, my entire head feels clumsy and disproportionate—
I am a foreigner walking to my home.
It is 7:12pm: the sun is saying its goodbyes by softly setting behind the sky.
I can only see the rays in spherical packets of yellow and white,
Glittery orbs of God-like sparkle raining down into my vision.
The car lights produce the same light orbs, warm reds and blinding silvers,
Adding to the beauty of the blurred landscape.
Despite the ill-defined nature of the surroundings,
there is an overwhelming comfort to not seeing the faces of those that pass by,
Being in tune to only the distant sounds of human life.
The dream deepens when I have crossed the busy intersection,
And a figure confidently walking towards me.
The spheres of light, the crystals hidden to all, converge on this one point, on this one figure.
I cannot see His body or face, I cannot hear His voice, but I know Him well.
He beckons me forward, but as I reach the place He once stood,
He has gone farther away—
farther and farther and farther until He reaches the sky.
Until He is the sky.
My eyes are still struggling to understand this sight,
they long for the familiar clarity my frames provide—
my hands twitch with every thought of moving them from my head to my nose.
But He laughs and smiles.
He is patient.
(He is patience).
He knows that I am accustomed to a worldly understanding,
Eyes that consume only earthly visions.
He has gifted this moment to me,
a moment with Him in which I can laugh at the sheer fragility of misconceived clarity.
However, this walk exists only in the parenthesis of a moment,
A fraction of time in existence, a tiny passing speck of light.
I hate to say goodbye,
but He floats away gently,
mouthing “Until tomorrow.”
I have made it to the stoop of my home and I regretfully reposition my eyeglasses.
The muddled clarity of Earth settles into my skin,
And my eyes slowly refocus.
Before I enter through the doorway,
I take one look back at the clear skyline and sigh—
7 o’clock seems eternities away.
Until tomorrow.
