the life of the experience
subdued in its passionate shadow of its yesterday
raging, searing tears cascading
as the experience is rushed
for irrelevant frivolties of the mortal realm
it’s already going by at the pace of my never ceasing pulse
yet, we are slowed and unable
to savor our moment in the daystar
because no one understands
we aren’t meant to sit
we’re supposed to glide and float
and love and fly
or our own experience will be like sand through our fingertips
passing us by