If one big thing were to happen. Just one, my lord. Just one, my priest. One is all I ask for my sweets.
To find gold, to loosen hold, to let go, to find meaning, to discover goodness, to come upon beauty. Suddenly, serendipitously (such a long word that). Sneaking upon me, it will come. Cover my eyes and hover behind, basking in the knowledge that I will see and I will gape. In virgin pleasure and complete surprise. That it should come upon me so. Always knowing that it will, yet so pleasantly aghast that it has.
We will walk hand in hand. Pleasure and I. Gazing at each other out of the corner of the eye, my left, its right. Then it will let go of my hand and drape itself over my body. Covering every inch and as I step out, I will walk two inches above the ground (four if I’m on my scooter). And with shining eyes, I will look at the world. All but oblivious that none know what I know and none have what I have.
And even in this perfect knowledge, I will know that I’m mad.
To even think momentarily that this will last.
But for that moment, that perfect moment, my perfect wait.