The right time and the right place.
They will become apparent when we see them.
Are we to chase? Laid back, opportunities pass. A madman pursues the wind. Grasped, he sings. Lost, he crys. We sit and wait.
I recall an answer and the smug face that told it. Like square pegs in an ever changing hole, the dance of the mind has no place for the static.
Returning to the source is not the goal just yet. That answer suffices for those who need none, want none and will leave us.
I know what you're saying and you're making more sense than I'll realise for a very long time.
You grabbed my hand, and we fell into it. Like a daydream. Or a fever.