Eternity casts its golden gaze on the sheets of a bed scattered haphazardly across the mattress.
He gently runs his hand across the waveform captured in the flesh by a woman still wrapped up in the blanket holding the lingering heat preserved from the previous day to survive the night.
The open window breathes in the cold with tendrils of the first hints of the morning’s warmth.
He can hear her groan, as she begins to allow herself to nearly become focused on the moment, before slipping back into the sweet dregs of the night’s apportioned unconsciousness.
In the moments before she awakes, he stares at the clouds drifting past the golden eye of God.
He exists for that moment as a completed thing; time, space, and the sequence they lay out – suspended and external – malleable, in that window of beingness, to the waking mind.
He breathes deeply and leans back.
As his arm reaches behind her slender neck, she rolls herself onto his stretched out legs; still wrapped up – the tip of her nose still swaddled, her legs just peeking out, and she slowly opens her eyes to meet his steady gaze.
For the briefest moment, they see in each others eyes the darkness that they’d travelled through; they do not invoke it in light of the dawn.
They acknowledge it without saying a word or sound.
He breaks his gaze and pulls his arm underneath her chest.
He stares back at the golden morning light that now fills the sky, and reflects to himself upon his gratitude to be here, in this moment.
He feels her fingers reach for his, and her lips pressing against his naked chest.
He feels her eyes on him.
He firmly grasps her slender fingers, but does not break his stare into the morning light.