Morning Commute

A chill in the air finds me in the morning, in bed, refusing to leave to safety of my dreams for the the uncertain of my waking world. Covered in blankets, naked beneath, rejoicing in the comfort of a warm bed, I remain until the alarm stirs me from a morning dream.

Showered and dressed I leave my nightly dwelling, my refuge, for the waste lands of life. The crowds gather. Buses flowing. Trains going beneath many layers of urban soil and pavement.

Inside I desire, outside I remain stoic, a companion. What is one but a solitary being in search of a soul mate. I am alone. Traveling through life, a voyage of a certain end, I seek out in hope but remain in the shadows of doubt.

I push my way through the gathering masses. My spot on the bus gained with brute force, though I have no grudge nor do I have remorse, I hold firm to my spot waiting for my stop.

I see so many people yet they are all strangers and forever shall remain so. They orbit me like so many moons, casting shadows and influencing ever slightly the tides of my life, and ever so distant as in a thing seen from afar. 

Sidewalk. The end of one journey. The beginning of another.

My heart races with hope. Will I find him in the crowds passing me as I walk to nowhere, work, and as I go through my day waiting for night to come once again?

I imagine him. Abstract with no place or person in mind. He looks at me in my waking dreams. We have met before but now it's different. We find love though love was always waiting there for us to find one another. We embrace and we become one. These days become more than hours to forget. These days become things to hold close to us and cherish like gems priceless and rare.

I walk through door. Another door. I sit. I type. I look around the office. A hive of lingering souls.