sensing

How do I truly internalize this wonderful summer? I feel as though I am squeezing a sponge to force out the oceans and oceans of happiness that had occurred, but I just can't quite squeeze hard enough; as though there is always more cold refreshing water to unleash, to seep out and hug my hands, to cleanse, to imbibe, to smell evaporate through your nostrils... This feeling. The endless layers that keep appearing no matter how many times I peel the onion. The depth in each word that was spoken - I yearn for it to be felt; the ephemerality of each smile - I yearn for it to be collected into a wooden box, locked into my heart, with the key tossed off a cliff. There is a force around me, a feeling from the mountains I see beyond the plane wing and clouds, the soft glow of light smeared by a paintbrush of God, stroking the horizon, painting a perfection that everyone else doesn't seem to yearn for; a touch of it, a smidge, is all my throat thirsts for, all my body aches for. I feel a mysterious force hovering about each object, each motion, each spin of a wheel along the cold concrete, each breath from the winds around the clouds I the distance. It tickles the edges of my senses, eliciting the tail end of a thread of my mind. I feel like I could swallow all oceans and still not fully quench this sensation at the edge of my senses.