From afar it might be mistaken for average feathers, however, if you take a closer look, you can feel without even touching it the thousands threads of its delicate texture and the subtle shimmer of his wings; by the time the rising sunbeams could strike it, they are far gone. He is now back to humanity.
Every morning he opens his eyelids and stares at the fresh air of a new day. He squeezes them tight and flaps them again wishing it all had been reality; the night lingers.
He moves slowly but his brain is running in the speed of light. He’s ready.
For decades, he’s been giving birth to his Gods and Demons translated into little synchronized letters, swimming into words, paragraphs, chapters, entire tales. His mind processes what he feels into melodies, which flow into one another. His synapses proliferate millions of musical notes; he is overflowed with desire, it’s contagious. He walks out of his bed and covers his palpable outline with conventional pieces of clothes. The delicate blur of light that surrounds his edges is as golden as his bouncy hair curls. He opens the giant wooden door leading to the outside world and climbs onto his magic rug bewitched into a sky-blue scooter. He rides his wills through the asphalted streets of the busy city, opening seas. He watches the architecture of the massive buildings. He sees the rainbow in the millions of cars that, as cattle, crowd the paved trails of that urban jungle. He takes notices of the mass of people living their lives inside their thin bubbles. He travels in his magic-rug-scooter taking curbs by storm, riding through the throng, full of colossal ideas inside the little bag on his back. He conquers his Kingdom through the tiny slits of his eye against the wind, gulping images into information.
Every day he engages his audience chanting the ordinary into magic. He attends meetings with suited man and casually dressed fellows, he visits well decorated offices, he has lunch and dinner meetings in distinctive restaurants, he’s invited to homes and requested by several different tribes; he’s a breeder of dreams. He spreads his seeds full of great ambitions. He rides around Olympus shooting arrows of creativity into people’s minds; ideas that blossom into intricate projects, raising millions of their device of trade, which will later generate unexpected stimulation into several individuals brains, in a full circle of inspiration.
During daylight he may look human to distracted eyes, but he transcends humanity in his abilities; he’s a man filled with elaborated affections. Once the sun starts setting, he feels the wings slowly ripping his pulsing skin. The air gets thinner. His new branches get lighter by the darker the sky turns. His feet begin to disregard the boundaries of gravity; soon is time to go. His mind now plays a complex symphonic orchestra breaking all his shells open. His heart pounds fresh blood and suddenly pour hiccups of intensity out of his chest. His wings are fully-grown; time has come. The music gets clearer and louder; he starts to fly.
He opens his wings taking upon the night by his arms and travels through clandestine space tunnels. His long voyage feels barely like a couple of seconds. He disregards Time by the joy of tasting the soundless gust of the journey. He knows to slow down once the air warms up; he’s entering her land.
She sleeps soundlessly, tacitly waiting for his arrival. He lands in her room mesmerized by her fragility; little patinho. He stares for a while, photographing from far each of her corners into mind portraits. Her little butterfly wings are still frail from growing. He quietly gets underneath her sheets and sluggishly spoons her margins. Her body boils. She embraces him in silence. He caresses her cheeks with his eyelashes and kisses her nose with the tip of his. Their skins have a flawless memory of each other. She turns to him and sees through his eyes; finally into each other’s arms. They kiss and stay there for a while, just being. They squeeze tightly, blissfully. He lies on top of the full length of her body and she takes pleasure in supporting his weight. They duck dive into each other’s smell, puzzling their limbs into one another, like complex enzymes; they fit. They morph their borders into one singular unit. Their sweat balances each other’s temperatures. They are in heat.
He bites her inner tights in a feast; she kisses every tiny piece of his body and sucks his peripheries; he eats figs off her legs and licks her pink tongue. They pour naughty wishes into wetness, losing their walls into each other’s secrets. They explore their territories with endless curiosity. Their bodies dance in perfect sync, brewing hurricane, exploding in thousand sparkles turn into a firestorm of planetary magnitude. They overflow all of their fluids and finally faint into each other’s arms. They fall into the deepest dream. Love meets Soul.
He opens his eyelids and stares at the fresh air of a new day. He squeezes them tight and flaps them again, wishing it all had been reality; the night lingers.
