A divine fistful!

"Oriental Poppies" by Georgia O'Keefe

For a moment, I was a child again, the surface of the water was clear yet reflected the picture of a boy I’d known a thousand years ago, and as if I hadn’t stood witness to the stepping on lonely flowers by the charging herds, I was a child again.
I’d fallen victim to sweet reflection again; I walked blind folded at the edge of the abyss, I ceased to believe a pin prick can hurt, I ceased to believe a flame would sear my smooth untarnished skin, I smiled to the passers by and would’ve followed the piper to his avail, I was diminished beneath that which is insignificant, yet the world was at my command!
For a moment I was a child again, a child whom I thought had been driven to the beckoning white light, his joy stormed through my senses like a volcano of rose petals and chocolate seashells, his anguish exploded through my bones like a million ants carrying an atomic bomb, for a moment I abandoned the middle and floated simultaneously through both extremes, and in that moment I prayed for a million years not to be freed.
I - the man - live to harvest the measured matter and time that music and love leave behind. I – the child – live in music and love, where time never matters and matter is as irrelevant as time. Will you allow me not to have grown for only a moment a day?