Elusive Elation

In those elusive instances of piercing elation and wonder, a shadow hovers somewhere between my stomach and heart reminding me that I will never be so happy the same way twice.  Even as I take in the joy of the moment, I mourn its inevitable end. A faint sadness for the girl without.

But if there is one thing I have learned in my short nineteen years, it is that these moments, they return.   A particular composition of people, place and time meant to be enjoyed and not reciprocated, yet each bound by a common sense of reckless freedom and separation from reality.

And just as these experiences are never the same, I am never the same within them.  A theretofore unknown piece of me illuminated.  Yet as time moves forward and people and places fade, the memory of illumination remains.

Returning to the daily, weekly, monthly, the subtle, warm knowledge that once

I dabbled in brilliance.