It's a moment of time, both hurtling and frozen.

It's a moment to live.

Do you ever have that moment when you feel like the world is yours?  Maybe it's just a moment when you feel utterly yourself.  You're in your own skin and you know beyond all feasible doubt that your skin is something worth being in, whether anyone else is there to see it or not.  I'm sort of having one of those moments, for no apparent reason.  It's one of those times when I wish it was a gorgeous day, autumn and just a bit windy, in the late afternoon when there's sienna sunlight tumbling over the treetops and sporadically pooling on the ground below, so you can just hear the faint riffling of a piano in the breeze, and I'd go outside in a skirt and bare feet and stretch myself out to the sky and just breathe.  Because I am someone.  I am a living poem, and the world is a poem, and God did a *insert a profoundly but not vulgarly emphatic adverb here* good job inventing poetry.