It is a longing for the moment to last, for the beauty to find a concrete place—
a fixed place in this head and heart.
But it passes,
leaving me hungry,
not just for more—another framed piece of the world—
but for beauty itself.
For all that would satisfy the heart-pinching yearning for things to be made right!
It is the memory of what has been lost—a residue of hope-life micro chipped into my soul
to keep me,
to keep me pressing on toward higher things,
toward pure joy things,
and to keep me from sinking deeper into the sucking despair of what is.
So this winged wonder chirping by my window,
this diamond water refracting pleasure,
this panorama of color and pattern and breath, filling my camera and filling me
is the longing for that fixed place that fixes me.