When given and we are present in heart and mind, it is a rare gift. I call it a Camelot Moment because it was perfect in itself and yet a confirmation to a philosophy in process. It met with great appreciation when first published and now approaching Valentine’s Day, for new readers, I wish you a Camelot Moment.
Camelot Moment. . .
I sat in my chair at the dining room table
and watched with joy a moment rare in our shared history.
My coffee cup had been refilled so many times.
Its taste was cutting sweet.
You had risen from the table and in the space
that was the middle of the kitchen,
were moved by some unnamed force to do a jig.
In the fragmented second it took to blink away
a laughing tear, your form transformed and
there we were and yet not.
With feet doing your ancestral dance in mid-air,
your solid body was no longer solid.
A maze of dancing atoms and molecules took your shape.
Your color took on their transparency
and I thought how fragile you are!
It was just a moment but eternity practicing and
you were back into the time frame
we both knew as you. I could not tell you what I saw.
The rules of this let’s pretend world are hard to break.
I sit at this desk with magically moving molecules,
drinking coffee from a supposedly solid white cup and saucer
and holding tight to a yellow pencil at a time
when the rest of the world sleeps and weeps.
Knowing the mountain is only a thought form
and with a little faith in my ability to move it, I could.
With our prejudices we mightily construct a world
to please or not, as our self image directs.
But in this brief Camelot moment,
I know that in that sacred space
I saw you so utterly defenseless,
I never loved you more, nor me.