A Letter To The Moment.

Dear Present Moment,

Gently still. Kindly quiet.

You are sunlight filtering through my window shades, casting long beams across my bedroom. You are the dust that floats lazily above head, and settles wherever it pleases. You are the amber eyes of my sleeping dog that flicker open when I shift. You are my figure sitting on the bed in a long red dress and sweater, typing click click click on the keys. You are the flowers that bloom on my window sill, and the cold breath of winter that seeps through the glass.

You are everything. You are everyone. You are often overlooked.

I’ve always been told that it’s our duty to embrace you, and I hope you can forgive me for the times that I forget. It’s hard when you sit so complacently before me, as if with crossed legs and folded hands, not to look past you in blind curiosity, or turn around to better hear distant echoes. Foolish, really. If I were to know better, I would realize that you very quickly become those reverberating calls, and the blurry images beyond I strained to make clear are, in fact, only you. And today, how beautiful you are.

With Love,

Taylor Grace.