The morning sun

The morning sun laid its head on her chest, which made her look like she was made of gold, only more precious. Light never disturbs our sleep except when it is so bright that it awakens the desire to exist more fully, to burn like a star. But we were young then and more often awakened by lust than the desire to keep on living. Maybe it was just a craving of the flesh but it felt like enlightenment.

I was in love and the whole world was present in us, everything was made of joy as though the universe was a fluid made of feelings. Her skin was an empty sheet of paper on which I could write my invisible love. Why does it have to be invisible? Perhaps so that we would not know that the paper is never empty.

My fingers drew paths on her stomach but left no traces. Just when I was thinking of tiny strawberries swimming in milk she sighed something and I lifted my head from her breast. It is enough of a miracle that we are breathing, which made this moment sacred. She is the altar on which I worship our existence.

From the window we could see the beach and the ocean kissing the sands without tiring. The sea is more patient than we could ever be, but she is more beautiful. I wanted the sea to stay outside but it kept coming out of our pores and I would keep swimming in her currents, breathing in the scent of her sweat, the scent of eternity.

The morning made us both glimmer but I was not sure whether the light came from within us or from the sun. It surely felt like we had turned into two stars orbiting each other. The space was gone now, the world had never been this empty, or this full. But time still existed, the movements of her legs were showing the way to the future. Will death be waiting for us there? Do not worry, it will.

She smiled and touched my chin gently. We had only now been born.