What is it I am always looking for? Something beyond the dreaming, beyond the dream. Another moment of magical clarity, like the time I first viewed the moon through a powerful telescope--standing over the eyepiece trying to read the scars on that other world. I want to be (but am not) enraptured by the weave of threads in a bit of cloth, by the scout ant smelling at a lake of spilled soda on the concrete, his attenae quivering, by the effortless waltz of dust motes in a cathederal of sunlight. I want to be able (if only for one day) to turn in all my cards, bury all my responsibilities, forget all my associations, lower all defenses and simply live. But I am so jaded and there is never any time. Never any time. I have to pick up the kid from school. I have to write five pages or die. I have to steam clean the carpet. I have to peek in on fictional people living fictional lives. I have to get up the hill, no longer amazed by its existence. And I want so much to be amazed.
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I'm not sure if this helps, but this is an excerpt from a song (sorry, no info on it) that I keep hearing on the radio. For some reason your post made me think of it.
Catch me in the fall, if summer meant a thing,
The ice will surely thaw, sometime in the spring.
I never seem to find, the chill to lose it's sting,
cause everything that's cold, has an old familiar ring.
It may seem mundane and sparkless, but I believe that the beauty and magic will return. Perhaps....sometime in the spring.