You don’t feel this moment like I do?
You don’t see the colors inside your brain when the music is playing?
You don’t hear patterns of colors as they hit your retina and cling to your memory?
Your body doesn’t become warm when certain sentences dance in cadence?
You don’t wander through ancient paths looking for your ghost?
You don’t concentrate all your focus on never being the person you once were?
You haven’t read through stories of past lives looking for your own future?
You don’t understand why I don’t understand the point of this meeting?
Your chest doesn’t swell when gray blankets the sky matching your senses?
Oh. You don’t.
I do though.
Maybe I’ll permit myself to love the grace given to me.