Gratitude

"It's not about getting there,
It's about the journey."

They say that.

Everyone says it, over and over,
like they believe it & know what it means
and then they laugh.

But what do they mean?

Do they mean that it is about this moment 
right now?  This poem
happening right
here

&

not the one that come out of me yesterday complete
and contained within itself and perfect

Until it was lost like Seifenblasen
bursting in the air just next to your face
leaving nothing but the memory of its 
shiny
floating 
rediculousness

And a couple of drops of water on your ear and
fingers.

It was a perfect poem.

I saw it and knew it and it disappeared.

Strange that the perfection remains still intact.

That one moment of knowing it to be perfect.

​I am grateful.