a poem for the best of times


there are these moments.
moments of clarity.
moments of simplicity.
moments of synchronicity.
you know those moments?
those moments when you realize
the silver lining of the clouds is low enough to touch,
to unravel,
to reveal.
the moments that you are glad happened,
or maybe they didn’t.
it doesn’t matter
because there's always a breeze and the air always feels
full,
full to the brim of something new but old,
like it would be cool to the touch
(if you could just put your finger on it).
moments when the universe somehow sees your soul and
still welcomes it like an old friend,
embraces its edges and smoothes them
with time’s sandpaper
(that isn’t as rough as we’ve been told).
moments when your heart is finally still
and warm and radiates
through you.
there are these times,
these times when you’re so glad the past didn’t happen,
or maybe it did.
it doesn’t matter
because all that we have is this.
this.
an infinity of “this”.

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this is a poem for those moments when life feels like the breeze on a cool early autumn morning that you run your hand through out the shotgun window as you drive home. save it for then.