Those are the things that remain intangible. Unattainable. Unnamed. They are the ungraspable, although greeted with outstretched arms and open palms. Still, they fall, like grains of sand into life’s hourglass, each piece forming a malleable whole. Moving together with each turn of the glass. The final grain lingering for a moment with the formation of whole thought, seemingly within reach and resting in a purgatory of stillness before retreating down the narrow tube of glass and moulding back into one.
Just for a moment it stands alone in clarity, dragged out from the familiarity of the masses by the warm light of the sun, a song on the radio, or the smell of home. In the calming rain on a wind shield, the crack of fire wood, or the first swim of summer. The fleeting perfection of that feeling hovers in clear singularity before tumbling down into the masses. It waits on the bottom of your lip in full formation but remains unspoken. Not only because of the inexplicable nature of its being but because it is unequivocally, yours.
It lives in the quietness of unspoken thoughts. In all the guitar rifts, kisses, waffle cones, sandy beach toes, heartbreaking novels, first cars and fresh blueberry muffins that are your own. Living and breathing in the safe harbour of each lucid realization before falling and mixing into that unavoidable hour glass – life.