Solitude & Silence: Pre-Dawn
Síochána agus Tost: Luath Maidine
| ~ "Cha cheòl do dhuin' a bhròn uil' aithris." ~ |
Silence is prevalent this morning.
The island is wrapped in peaceful slumber, and this pleases me. The only noticeable sound is the quiet and gentle ocean breeze soughing softly through the trees.
At this lovely stage of pre-dawn, contentment is not fiction. It is very real.
It has been a long time since I could honestly say that my worries seem small and insignificant. The trials and tribulations of life carry no implications. The only things that have meaning at this moment, are the steady sounds of my breathing, and the effortless chain of thoughts that are bringing this new memory into being.
This pleases me as well.
It's strange to think back, and remember my turbulent and violent adolescence without wondering how that hateful and introverted boy became the man that I am today; strange to think that I have come to have such an exceptionally opposite point of view.
Something is happening to me, and for once I am not only unwilling to fight it, I am delighted and intrigued to discover that it as well pleases me very much. I have finished my record of those years. I have finished it to discover that my story is not yet complete, it is only beginning.
I have never experienced love in the way that I am experiencing it now. I have no focal point for the emotion; no physical, tangible source. I can think of no catalyst that could possibly explain this sudden and unexpected difference in thinking. There is no 'Special Someone.' There is nothing different about my lifestyle, my family, or my friends. The difference is me...
But what has changed?
Perhaps with dawn my answer will arrive. But perhaps an answer would only strip me of my newfound optimism and leave me cold and weak...
Left again, to deal with all of the things that have no business troubling me.
I have come to believe that I will never be a rich man. Such a thing holds no interest for me. Similarly, I find it harder and harder to see myself leading the same sort of life that the majority of the people I see have chosen for themselves. My appeal for objects I cannot keep forever has decreased as well. I have no need for expensive possessions; I have no need for an abundance of possessions either. My belly is full, and when it rains I have shelter. The clothes on my back and in my drawer have a little life left in them, and my days belong only to me.
Was it without purpose that I endured the mental and physical torture that almost killed me? I should think not. Without that pain- that chaotic stage of my life- I would have never grown to appreciate the things that need to be appreciated.
I have come to terms with existence. I no longer question its reasoning, instead I strive to give it one of my own. I patiently wait for my time on this earth to be complete, and impatiently I wait to see what lies beyond. Is it another world? Perhaps it is another dimension; one where all the laws and principles that hold this one together are unimaginable.
"Cá dtosnaíonn is cá gcríochnaíonn mise?"
There's no point in wondering when an answer can never be reached, but I wonder regardless.
I won't pretend that there is nothing material that I want, or that I will buy for myself. I won't lie to you, or to myself and make a statement as transparent and ridiculous as that. But I have come to find that it is more fulfilling to want than to have.
(saol gan aiféala)
To have something, you must ruin the dream of acquiring it, only to find that there is something else that you want. And everything that you acquire will surely pass away in time. But to submit it to memory is to truly have it forever.
For now, I only want to laugh and cry;
To live and die...
(cosain mé ón méid atá uaim)
And be remembered...
And this,
Above all else,
Pleases me very much.
...
..
.
I
[breacadh an lae]
Smell of dew.
Sound of rain.
Dawn reshapes the shadows,
Into something beyond words.
A gentle northern breeze,
Makes tree limbs yawn and reach.
As I stretch my fresh and rested arms,
I bathe in the morning.
II
Yesterday gives way;
Begins another day.
Another page;
Another new memory.
The sun begins its path across the sky.
The world immersed, is filled with light:
A prism of colors, textures, sounds;
Painted on the canvas of the night.
Crimson turns to gold;
Begins to shine.
I'm wide awake;
Auspicious.
Content, to simply witness this,
And be alive.
III
Twittering birds signal the commencement of morning.
The arrival of spring, is carried through open windows.
The moment is prime, so inhale, and breathe,
Then witness a world, enamored in lilac and green.
It is a beautiful day,
So go out, and live it the best way.
Take a walk in the park;
Spend it out in the sun.
Like everything else,
It will come to an end.
So go out, and make a new memory.
IV
It’s a beautiful season of symbolic rebirth;
Like magic, tulips arise from the earth.
Rain showers pass, leaving rainbows,
While children play games in the puddles.
Some people say,
That this is the best way.
Life springing forth, from life that has died.
Every day ends,
Before another begins.
So enjoy it, and savor the memory.
Pádraig Ó Céileachair
:::patrick T. kaylor:::
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