This peach br that I’ve just eaten, br been graced by, br been blessed by, br been taught by, br been transformed by… br br it’s as if some br Messenger of the Gods br had arrived, stopwatch in hand, br saying, everything holds in perfection br but a little moment - br as William Shakespeare noted: br br so I’m going to arrange things so that br as the stopwatch ticks out br ten seconds to that moment, br you’ll reach out your hand to the fruitbowl, br take it, feel its yielding softness under velvet skin, br cut it carefully twice through the poles, br once equatorially… and as it falls apart, br spear one segment; eat… br br this peach br was full of what even Rilke br could say no more than, peachness.. br br it was a living proof of Plato: br its perfection taught me br where essence meets experience, br where actuality meets the ideal of peach; br where a singular perfection speaks of br all perfections; where perfection br leaves from perfection, naught else but perfect… br br how could such a perfect thing br have been invented by one br who does not love? Who is not love? br This peach is love itself, and I the worshipper br must needs make of myself a living God br to whom to kneel, to offer praise and gratitude br for all perfection known.. br br this peach my teacher.