I saw his scandinavian blue eyes full of pain and withholding tears. I saw his spirit broken and confused, running away from those who had imposed a sentence to the present he didn't know how to accept. All that he built in the past disappear in a blink of an eye. He stood there, the life of an accomplished and proud man, stripped to the core of humbleness, no direction, no alternative plan, improvising with the sorrows of the uncertain future, and trusting his momentary resting soul needs to the words of a stranger girl who knew of hope and unselfish love and that found herself at the right place in the wrong time.
I saw the
tears of his eyes falling into my hands, his broken strength into my arms, and
I saw his type of sorrow, as the type of sorrow that can sink a ship. I allowed
him then into the harbor of my hope, patched the wounds of his soul with
kindness, soften the pain singing spanish songs in his ear, and sharing all the beautiful words I
repressed for so long, I warmed all the coldness of the fear he felt, allowing
him to speak to me with the words of his true being, that had been repressed
for so long. I painted sunshine's and aurora's in the distance of our times,
from the colors of our souls, until the day he was strong enough to let me go,
so I could be me again.
Hope is a gift that one might give unselfishly to others to rebuild themselves when life troubles them, and we cautiously go in life afterwards rebuilding ourselves out of no one but what burns inside of our spirits. I have no regrets, a man got his life, dreams and future back again, and the road next to him ended for me there.
A broken man is no longer broken, a hopeful woman didn't break. I trust they both still shine bright .She goes now in life cautiously, sometimes restraining the strength of her hope and hiding the tears of the heart in the words she types.
Sørlyset
