You are so right: It are the things we don't engineer which affect us with sudden unknown pleasure and purity. The sigh of sweet aaah's vaporizing in the evening's genuine warmth.
All that goes, comes again transitioned, all we desire whispers songs to our collarbones if we do listen.
I wonder how it is being a firefly...and will I know how to one day?
Will I lie in the high grass and be played by the breeze and be the cricket just as I am the chimney and the snail and the fox and the girl, the daughter, and mother and lover and just salt, salt water, and sand and crabs and the ocean and mountains and vocals and the soft mold of rotten apples and the moon, pregnant with light?
Will I know how to cherish and let go when it's time and and take in when it's time and cradle my body when it's time and give it to dreams and bail it out in time and when is it time for what and why not just lie and gasp because living is truely divine, and wake up with your lips folded gently around mine and gaze and sing with you...will I sing and who will I be singing to? Is it you?
//Vienna, Burggarten, 28.07.13
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