Musings at dawn...

It's 4 a.m and I'm wide awake. A cock crows somewhere. A distant door shuts timidly.My television emits sounds that are wholly alien to the hour - canned laughter, happy music- the volume is low and yet these sounds are alien to the hour.
In other time zones, people sit - people I once knew- or at least thought that I knew- their realities vastly different from mine. Some part of me resists the difference. And the more practical , "grown up " side, knows that this is what must be in the end.
Do I mourn the "loss" ? Honestly , no. But there is a discomfort. There is a sense of weight. Distances grow. Geography is the least of it.
After the weight, comes the weightlessness. The floating away of bits that once mattered more than life itself. Or perhaps that was only a feeling. In the end what matters really?
I remember an evening from a very long time ago when I sat on a low bench overlooking a valley , a friend by my side. We watched a full moon rise. In that moment , there was magic in the air. There was magic and that indefinable certainty of endless possibilities. I do not remember the words spoken.But there were dreams and hopes. All that remains now of that moment is a memory of the ethereal space we gazed upon. Life occupied the time between then and now.
I remember too a spray of purple flowers with drops of rain on them.I remember them resting in a little glass on a window sill. Their simple breathtaking beauty remains in my mind's eye to be retrieved in the in between times like these.
The constants...