In this infinite now, I am. Feeling the wind on my face and brushing my hair, my skin caressed by the afternoon sunrays, I rejoice in the simple constatation that I am.
Here and now, I am present, I am young, and that is all I need to be happy. What is happiness but that inner contentment of being who I am, as I am, and letting the world see it? I don’t have to be a superstar, I don’t need the acknowledgement of humans, as long as the green fields are my stage and the chattering birds my audience. I will sing and dance to the orchestra of spring, and that is all I need to feel like a beauty queen. I may be one among millions of other beauty queens, but I don’t care, and I will shine on that stage of mine, as long as I’m drunk on the elixir of youth.
I can see how fleeting this moment is, slipping through my fingers like running water; the more I tighten my grip, the more it escapes me. And so I will let it flow, and flow with it until the very last drop. For what does it gain me to dwell over the inevitable passage of time?