July 01, 2005
July Morning
This time, this year, this July Morning, I did greet the sunrise - for the first time in more years than I care to admit.
Actually, I didn't mean to do it, I didn't think I'd make it, didn't think I'd manage to stay awake, didn't think I'd want to - but, well, one thing led to another, and what with Dr. Strangelove, with fire and ice (which I will probably translate into English and post here, too... but not right now), with another several hours spent in an almost friendly fight with Axis, with me finally going home and, instead of falling asleep, delving back into reading - The Burning City did, after all, turn out to be all that I expected from Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle and more, despite the somewhat slow beginning... suddenly I gave a start, reached up, turned off the lamp, found out that I could see just as well without it, rose up, opened the curtains, gazed at the faint colors of dawn upon the clouds over the silent city - and started singing...
At the sound of the first birds singing,
I was leaving for home
With the storm and the night behind me
And a road of my own
In the past few weeks it is much too often that I could hear "the sound of the first birds singing", although usually I'm home at the time - or at least, within the physical boundaries of my registered lodging. And in a conversation at a quiet walk about two weeks ago, which also took us to the light of the dawn, although there was no birdsong, and the "Linden" had not quite blossomed yet in that quiet part of Sofia, something else happened - it seems that I finally realized, accepted, confessed to myself, that I have actually found the road of my own - or at least I'd placed foot upon it, started along, even if with no inkling not just where it will take me, but also where it has taken others before me. But if we knew everything that was about to befall us in this life, wouldn't it then be ever so unbearably, indescribably boring?
Posted by roam at July 1, 2005 07:11 PM
