Stargazing

Pictures in motion pass through the focused slits of dream catchers
My anatomy teacher calls eyes and
I fight for glimpses of the moving present
Assimilating and spreading the colors as
I paint the world moving through my lens—
Ever changing, ever flowing, towards a new light,
But lately,
I have been caught staring.
Gazing at the constellations of people about me
In that euphoria of discovering the new, but always,
Always flipping through my mental albums trying to fit
the image to a picture poised in the gallery of time.
It’s a funny thing, staring,
Wide eyed, limp tongue, curled brows with inquisition of simple observation.
I am becoming quite a master, really I am—
I swear I am learning to stop and smell the roses--
focusing on a pinpoint of light in a single flash of time absorbing
only that which is now.
The traffic dissipates, the tea cools, and the lights of the city slowly burn
out as I remain transfixed in feeling the world around me.
It is in that moment of being surrounded by everything,
lost in a sea of people,
the currents pushing on every square inch of my exposed body,
open, willing, absorbing—
that I withstand time detached, yet completely in tune with the present,
Pictures in motion pass through the focused slits of dream catchers
My astronomy teacher calls windows into the universe and
I see the world as it is now, was, and always will be
as the speed of light races the course of time and,
in that brief moment of gazing,
the universe stops and I see:
my presence as a pinpoint of light in a body of energy
Ever changing, ever flowing, towards a new light,
but transcending in the pool of time,
resurfacing when the universe wills.

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