My Day is Your Night

 

 Every  morning when I wake up; I consider how strange it is that half a world away, you are settling down to go to sleep. I am beginning the day that has yet manifested in your existence.

As I start to chase the sun, you quicken to race the moon.

When I spend the evening in repose and greet the night with an open spirit, you are rising to the day that I’ve already experienced. It’s a completely new day for you, ripe with opportunity. You are frenetic energy with a quickening pace. The sunbeams illuminate your scruffy face, and I can see you smile in my mind. I envision your smile existing somewhere in this world as I drift into an ethereal slumber. I hold this piece of you, which I know is only mine. 

As I drift into dream worlds, landscapes and my own subconscious mind, you are running to and fro – meeting people, caring for your kin. You creep from place to place, and play as hard as you work. Your eyes are as wide open as your heart is eager to devour this precious life, because you never know when the sun will harken to its final setting. 
 

And then the cycle renews – as your soul slows down to rest, my soul arises and starts humming. I soak up the energy and wais of the happy souls around me, and try my best to make them think in a new language. Sometimes are trying, sometimes I’m flying. But I know that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be and it is right here.

Whilst I am alive and creating reality, you are succumbing to slumber. I know you dream. But do you still dream of me?

I think it’s fitting. Not only that we are separated by place, but by the very nature of time. That I’m in the sunrise and you are in the sunset. That I live in the East, the land of the sun god (Ra, Mithras), and you live in the West, where the dark and light ones alike worship the moon goddess (Sin, Nanna, Diana, Artemis). It’s irony in duality, how the moon tails the sun and the sun tails the moon. For days, months, weeks, and years. 

 Until an eclipse. When the sun and moon finally get to meet and the whole world stands in awe at their rapture. 

But until then, I shall be content envisioning you with your driftwood crown, standing at the banks of a mighty river, or on a tempest sea. As Luna ascends her trail of burning stars, the night beckons a drowsy splendor. I will sit contended in the sunshine. Hearing the laughter of children, smelling the flowering trees and marveling at how the day is inescapable to the night, but that the night always surrenders at dawn to the day. Our microcosm is the macro - the everlasting dance of the cosmos.