There's any number of endless days
Where I only see through a wide angle lens
An expanse of the blue-green horizon
That stretches on past the periphery
Of all I knew in yesterday
There are other, more uncertain days
Where every moment is lived out of focus
Like an attempt to see through
The fog of a mirror after a morning shower
Or in sunglasses clouded by breath
Before having the chance to be wiped clear
Finally, there are those days
That, in a lucky moment
Or in the precise conspiracy of time and light and patience
That the shutter click captures
Truth
However fleeting
And however temporary
A perfect moment
Where that very moment is fully presented
Before disappearing forever.
These are the moments we chase in film.
And in our dreams.
T
