Time in a Bottle

From a furnished apartment,

in a dreary London neighborhood,

completely solitary at 29,

3 days after 9/11,

longing for some kind of purpose,

I could not imagine

a day with feathery

and watercolor clouds,

dotting a bright blue sky,

the Olympics theme song

playing in the background,

surrounded by a group 

of 20 children,

their parents and guardians,

some people who guard me 

and some people I guard,

and an ensuing 180 minutes

of facilitating glee,

and thinking,

If I could stop time now,

would I do it? 

This is what I truly dreamed of

when I was a kid,

more so than the things I dreamed about

when I was 22, or 25, and wanted to be

important, 

somehow. 

When you feel like this,

then you know,

it's now, not earlier, not later,

not a goal, or an end.

You don't know about

enlightenment,

or nirvana,

or samadhi,

or anything so lofty. 

You know about happiness,

and realize it's momentary.