"It never comes when you look for it,
But only on its own terms,
On its own time,
In its own way.
To seek it is to lose it.
"It's silent, then sudden,
Like a stab in the dark
From a friendly fiend
Trying to make us remember what we forgot.
To lose it is to seek it.
"You hate it when it comes to you:
Its pains are too deep, too heavy, too eternal.
You hate it when it goes from you:
Its pleasures are too sweet, too joyous, too eternal.
May they ever end and never stop.
"Oh to place the pool that runs these rivers!
Oh to find the fountain that sends these streams!
Will I ever find that exalted ocean,
Of priceless pearls and unglittering gold,
And drown forever beneath its waves?"
-Jon Vowell (c) 2008