In The Beginning

Henry

 

Love is divine. It is neither touched by time or space, affected not by reason or sense. Lovers stricken by its poison arrow cannot fight it; cannot cure such an infectious disease. Its beginnings are most innocent; a stray glance caught across a room is the first sprout, the viral seed in both head and heart.

Women, and Love itself, have a way of making the courageous man timid; the verbose, speechless. Such is the humble beginnings of romance - shy courtiers hoping for a happenstance glance, a little smile, a rare word. You watch, you wait; too frightened to advance, too frightened of the ever-present chance you make yourself a fool before your heart’s greatest desire. You approach when she is only surrounded, unable to function in those private moments. You dance around one another, never together, never with the other, until Fate itself forces one upon the other.

In the same breath, a woman, the love for a woman, makes any man bold before danger. The world is worth risking for the safety of the dearly beloved; your own life is valueless in comparison with the happiness of your sweetheart. Reason is blinded by her beauty, hesitation deafened by her pain.

I have watched my many friends stung by various forms of this insect, all of which drive the victim from sanity. In cases of victory, there is happiness and pride, a heart full of elation and uncontested joy. In defeat, therein lies ultimate sadness - the heartbreak.

And, still, knowing this, I cannot resist an admiring eye in her direction. The room seems to revolve about her, turn at her every smile, hear her every word. However, it may be just me looking, drinking in her every motion. There is no woman comparable in beauty, in face, in form. She has an expression to rival those of angels, with wide, inquisitive eyes smiling with a clever brilliance.

The party slows , sound dims, as she turns her head. Her gaze catches on my own - on purpose or accident, I am unsure - and it makes my heart quicken with child-like excitement. It is as if those dark eyes can see every thought as it passes over my mind, hear my heart pounding against my ribs, sense the burning of my blood, and it makes me shudder in my shoes. As I dare not look away, entrapped by her vivid eyes, a blush colors her cheek like the bloom of the sunset, glowing radiantly. There! A gentle smile at her lips before she turns away from the brief, awkward moment. Although there was nothing awkward about that precious moment - at least to me - it would be a breath of time I would treasure in my thoughts, cherish in my dreams until we met again.

The End

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