I remember the moment I fell in love with you. Endless rationalising has been unable to convince me otherwise. We stood by the river under a radiant moon, and I was thinking how lovely it had been to have shared the evening with such a captivating young man. I was enchanted by the silhouettes of trees along the water's edge, and wondering when you were going to disappear back to your friends. But you spoke those perfect words, those words that sounded almost childlike in the daylight, but at the time sent my soul to the moon and back. In this moment, without knowing it, you slipped a tiny hook into a quiet corner of my heart, a hook that would allow you to draw me to you without doing so much as breathing near me.
Time passes and I travel this broad earth. I shrug aside my yearning and my spirit flourishes; I am gloriously complete. Blissfully free from the burden of misplaced hopes. One afternoon I return from a journey. One of those journeys that feels like a lifetime – eyes bright from absorbing so much beauty, head full of new ideas, new connections fresh in my heart, new love warming my soul. On my bed lies a letter. The softest paper, the most delicate handwriting. It says nothing much, yet to me it drowns out all else. It picks up a conversation left mid sentence, and in a handful of words clears the table of my emotions, making way for a new flux of feelings. Yet it is only a letter. A letter that says not much. Time sweeps by, and my love for you feels like a single fern on the forest floor: when viewed independently it is a miracle of such astonishing beauty, yet in it's context it seems insignificant. Yet even after so long, your presence renders the passing of time meaningless. I did not plan this. How was I to know that your presence would again envelope me in this spell. I find your gaze addictive, I labour to tear myself away from that tiny hook. While my conscious self makes a concerted effort to maintain a safe distance, I feel our souls syncing to one another. I have a heightened awareness of your presence at every moment, and when we talk I am taking more from you than the words you speak. I experience one of the happiest nights of my life, and then suddenly it is over. The following day we linger, both of us sensing that we will never have another such night. As I lounge in the grass and you play my favourite song (you bastard), I truly understand for the first time the meaning of bittersweet. What a mystery of human existence that something can feel so magical and blissful and yet so agonisingly painful. The sense of injustice fades with time, and I remember how little I know of you. How little you know of me, although it feels like you see so much more in me than most. I wonder if that is part of the beauty of this connection. We have alighted to one another's magic, without having the time to glimpse one another's flaws. Whatever this is, I am grateful for it. I have tucked your delicate hook into the deepest folds of my heart, and there it shall rest. I walk this earth with my head held just a little higher, knowing that there is another out there who sees my magic and is entranced by it. If such a connection can be borne from such unlikely circumstances, I feel certain another must await me somewhere. So thank you, my beautiful stranger.
0 Comments
|
I am a conservation field worker in New Zealand. I love mountains, sunrises, river swims, barefeet, cold beer, campfires, live music and whiskey. Archives
September 2018
Categories |