Eyes that Speak

As in so many early mornings, insomnia takes away my rest. Stubbornly, I chase it. Sometimes, with a relaxing tea. Other times, by reread one of the books that left a lasting mark on my bohemian soul.

That's what I'll do today. I'll go to my little library and who will be blinking at my curious gaze? Johannes Mario Simmel, himself, the Austrian who wrote pearls (in my opinion) such as "And Jimmy Went to the Rainbow", "The Stuff of Dreams" and "Tomorrow is Another Day".

JM Simmel is not always gentle in his writing, but without exception, he is a wizard of words that touch the heart. I think about rereading "And Jimmy Went to the Rainbow", but I am overcome by the desire to see a rainbow. Rainbows have always enchanted me. Now, at this moment, I am captivated by the melody I hear - At End of the Rainbow. I listen at a low volume, lulling myself into a sleep that is slow in coming.

Dawn is almost breaking. I decide. I will look for a rainbow, and I know where I can find one. I put my coat over my pajamas and put on my feet with lined boots. I walk to the beach, where the fishers are getting ready to go out to sea, in search of food for who knows who, but which will be used to support their families.

I stand there, standing in silence, watching the rush of preparations. It is quite possible that, at the end of the fishing trip, when the sun drives away the mist, there on the horizon the rainbow will toast the morning with its colors. But not for now.

For now, what I see is someone with a bare torso, muscles from work and not from the gym, tense, getting ready to leave. I see his muscles, but I want to see his eyes, because of the beautiful verses of the song I was listening to just now, if they didn't lull me to sleep, now they make me dream.

If I saw his eyes, would I be enchanted, as the song suggests? Would those eyes be able to speak? If they spoke, would they be able to say what the song instigates me to want to hear? But, could what I want to hear be spoken by the speaking eyes of the unknown fisherman? Yes, they could, because I am enchanted.

My gaze, which for now does not speak, follows “my” fisher and his peers towards the horizon. I stayed, but I let myself be carried away, even though I was static, and settled on the small rock next to the beach. I sail with him in the swaying of the waves, seeking his eyes to hear what they say.

And they speak. But not to me. I try to ignore them and make the speech of those dark eyes be for me. I believe. I believe this because the chords of the song I heard now resonate loudly throughout my enchanted being.

They, the eyes, speak of all the hidden good in the difficult daily routine, in the half-finished days, in the love made in a hurry so as not to miss the time to take the boat out to sea.

Yes, handsome fisher. I know. I arrived late. Your eyes wet with tears of love will never be mine. What a fool I am! I came to the beach to find rainbows, not fisherman's love. A mistake on purpose. Blame the music. How daring! The music is not to blame.

It's not even my fault. I came here for a reason. To find a rainbow. My thoughts leave the boat. They return to the small rock that surrounds me. My soul wants nothing more than to share enchantment with the rainbow.

Evil rainbow. It didn't appear.