November 19, 2012

November 19th 2012 1:27pm

He relished these quiet moments...
                                  ...these reflective moments

spent in such peculiar combinations of circumstances.

The way his abstracted familiarity with his own past
mixed with his relaxed appreciation of the ever-present sensation
of new possibilities within each moment.

because the moments he loved to subconsciously create for himself
weren't just
   old,     new,
                   and     infinite      

they were aesthetically arresting
        and he appreciated all the irreproducible details.

Somehow he could manage, for a few seconds    
                                                                          of instant eternity,

To extract a thrilling essence from the marrow of mundanity.

seemingly creating something extraordinary
                                   out of nothing in particular.

If this was not what it felt like to be fully aware one was alive,
he could not imagine any other experience that would.

But just as unexpectedly as the feeling had arrived,
it quietly stepped out the back door
   and was gone.

And even though he was left with no special memento
        or record of his time,
he had a vague sense of certainty that
what he could not hold onto
                             would never be far off,
and even with no promise to be found again,
                    somehow, it could   never   be     lost.