an american prayer

We're perched headlong on the edge of boredom

We're reaching for death on the end of a candle

We're trying for something that's already found us.

aflame all the time

I remember that sensation ... really special things that have no words to them. I hang on to them, because...so much of the rest of this existence is so fucking obvious, so easy to repeat, so easy to get bored of. But there's this other rhythm that's happening all the time; it's much more vibrant, but it's just harder to share. I imagine that it's in the deepest depths of that rhythm that the Sufis live. They're completely    aflame all the time.

http://www.jeffbuckley.com/rfuller/buckley/words/interviews/doubletake.html