It’s 2.54 in the morning and Hyqel and I are the only ones awake. It’s dark out, but he’s still strumming, playing his guitar in his room. And I hang back, just for a little while. A bit longer than I usually do. That melody, that song. Familiar, yet not so at the same time. It’s don’t look back in anger. The pre-chorus. He plays the pre-chorus and just before the chorus hits, he brings it back. A loop of chords. Over and over and over again. And it sounds so hopeful. Like an unspoken ode to all the melancholic hope he has for tomorrow. His tomorrow. The kind we don’t speak in words, but rather, in anything but. All at 2.54 in the morning. And i hang back at my door. Relishing in the moment. Commiting to memory the sound of bliss. The understanding of my Brother, in his truth. The boy I grew up with, without all the trappings of the bitter world that grew the man I see in the day.
It’s 3.02 in the morning, and he’s shut his door. I wonder why he’s stopped strumming. Maybe because life has caught up to him. Maybe he’s tired and needs to sleep. Or maybe because he finally realised how much of a ruckus he was making for the rest who miraculously, are still sound asleep. His lights are now switched on which makes me wonder, what does the heart look for in the light, when they hide so much in the dark?
