Seven hours ago the clock stopped its rhythmic onward movements and paused awhile to admire the sun hovering over the water banks, the melody of the song birds floating above the forest pines, and the dance of the children on their daily march up the hill.
Not everyone noticed this rest of seconds. Carrying on, instead, as though the universe was not an alarming, and devastatingly lovely place. (A place so worthy of their simple attention.) Their schedulesrefusing to lend way to magnificence.
And there it is: the tragedy of humankind. That one could pass by without breaking to applaud the world in its splendor; not reeling as all creation unfurls itself within our grasp.