What more, you may ask, do we want? Ah, but we want so much more – something the books on aesthetics take little notice of. But the poets … know all about it. We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words – to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. C.S. Lewis
I didn’t know.
I mean, I hoped.
But I haven’t known
Such moments of sweetness as these.
Chased them, sure,
Through drug induced time avoiding/sucking stupors
Or any other myriad number of attempts at distraction
– Definitely not the same –
And certainly not of the nourishing variety.
And always cut short by real life’s sobriety
– An annoyance to be avoided in such seasons –
Impossible to maintain
Leaving me not just hungry
But interminably insatiable and
Watching these children
Fully present in this moment
– Not ones next –
– Not ones past –
The fullness of time occurs to me
Wraps me up as in a warm and comfy blanket
Presenting itself as a friend
Instead of a dictator
Or commodity needing managed or maximized
In the absence of childlikeness
– and depending on the level of abuse –
Little more than
An ever dangling and elusive carrot
In this moment
There is real, savor-able, life-filled sweetness
Which means that
That hope did not in fact disappoint
It’s not only possible
It’s here and it’s good
This is what I hoped time would be like.
Rich. Full. Real.
Free of (self-imposed) demands
Time’s a friend