Maybe I have not missed a thing.
Perhaps whilst floating there is only sky and sea and canyon walls.
Noticing as the most temporarily important task.
Ladybugs in bushes and on leaves.
A beetle crosses a path.
Fields of color. Singular blooms without hesitancy.
Suspended need to remember red Earth.
Simply a communion whilst awake.
A stillness that puts me on my own knees to worship.
The tiniest of flowers direct me to the inevitable reward of birdsong.
How is it that one could ever forget the perfection of a wind?
What about the generosity of water taking her time to hum across rock.
It was the Spirit guide at the gas station I decided to be twinkled by.
What made me ask for splendor through his lens I have no need to know.
Nor why he chose to offer a few long dirt roads into the sanctuary of revivification.
Nevertheless, I tasted an eternal moment of bounty.