If you're awake at four.....

It's time to go now. Don't have to sit and wait.

The pieces never were made to fit. It's one of those crazy jigsaws in which a few essential pieces are lost in the years gone by, with some pieces only waiting for years to come. Either way, don't lose your hair......yes, there is a picture but you can't get all the pieces. You can't imagine how beautiful it is just yet. Don't really know if you have what it takes to see that.

And yet, it's 4 in the morning. The darkest hour is almost here. Everything seems distorted, nothing in perspective. Thoughts, racing through with open swords. Memories, ripping through the lower reaches, where the bleeding never stops. Tears.....are for children. I don't have any tears. They had their day. This isn't day; it's night. And there's no one on this side of the planet. Funny how well you can remember people after they leave. Funny how this all seems familiar; it's all I've known. Do people actually sleep through that hour.....four in the morning?

"The finest hour that I have seen
Is the one that comes between
The edge of night and the break of day
It's when the darkness rolls away."



I was led to believe that my father comes in the morning. He apparently waits for me, with hot breakfast on coals, in the clear, hazy light of morning. By the seashore. I was also told that he's got something to ask...... It's a mighty good thing he comes in the morning....I was beginning to sink. And I'd waited FOR EVER!!!! Can't even stay awake anymore.

This time I want no words. No more thinking about it. No more waiting. I'm ready now. It's time to take my father's hand. It's time to have breakfast and look forward to the light of day, and another. And another. Always. And it's time to look into his eyes, and say YES. To anything he asks. AND FOR MY OWN SAKE, DO IT!!!

It's time to leave the pieces to themselves. I've got to stop making them fit - look, see my hands. That's blood that's stopped to hurt. I don't remember any hurt. Funny!! Must have hurt sometime - that looks nasty now. But I can't remember a thing. And look here - that's clotted. Dried up. THAT CERTAINLY HURTS now....

Those pieces; if you look at them for what they are, there are sharp edges you can't play with. But I don't remember those edges; they just seemed nice to hold and have. Can't even remember when the toy broke and the pieces began. I have to tell myself the truth and stop lying - they're all I have and I have to give them up now.

My father says I don't need my toys anymore.

Gotta sleep. Don't wait up for me at four.