Times Inbetween

I seem to remember a golden post-toddler childhood in which each day was a journey ecstatically timeless, yet within bookends of coral dawn and bruised dusk, between waking from true timeless sleep and returning to my evoluting inside place for adventurous pilgrimage, courage in face of nightmares, curiosity looking full-face between inside enchantments and outside ecstasies. But now I am that parent who calls to liturgical dinner, harvests and buys the victuals, plans the sacramental meals on my better focused days, administers all cleansing rituals, defends all rights against retributive trespass and pollution of sand and soul water and soil sacred energy... Secular disenchantments distract from Here we are in this inviting, yet constantly changing, day for just us Now, far outweigh sacred enchantments. Ecstasy feels like a reserve preserved for early WinWin childhood on a glorious summer day of liberty, While mendacity of time's turbulence, downdrafts, push-back, competitively usual business projects lack of time for leisurely enchantments from unseen dawn through vaporizing dusk, Two moments of each outdoor day unlikely to engage my full, ecstatic, still-parenting old age presence remembering golden enchanting childhood.