So This Girl Looks at Me and I Turn Into A Mayfly

Mayfly flying up and up towards the sun

Okay.

It’s a match of opposites.

She’s a diva, I’m a man bland; she’s a rippling wave made of sensation, and I’m a still surface of a lake eternally calm. She’s an empress who has conquered the hearts of many, and I’m a man secluded and savage without any charm.

So you can imagine the violent throbbings of my heart as she stops, look past the sea of faces, and rests her heavenly gaze on me.

I stop in my tracks.

I freeze.

I turn to stone.

And something shifts inside me.

It’s more than a feeling, different than your regular sensation.

It’s like what the earth must have felt after one of those long winters — the first sunshine post eternal midnights.

As the first sunbeams must have torn open the black envelope of the long night, how the earth must have begun its transformation — the dark veil of the night slowly lifting, the bent faces of withered sunflowers rising, the frosty blades of white grass glinting, and every sleeping soul, waking up, smiling.

I feel something like that.

A light shines on the darkest corners of my heart.

A voice echoes in the deepest recess of my soul.

A scent grips me completely making me aware of my existence.

A touch nuzzles all over my body covering it with tiny goosebumps.

And I feel this rising within me, this surging, this floating — this weightless ascension.

I’m being reborn, I’m being resurrected.

And I wonder if it’s only a gaze until now.

She is merely looking.

What will happen as she begins walking towards me, stands next to me, stretches her lips in a blooming smile, reaches towards me, and gives her hand into mine?

A tiniest of fear, a minute terror.

What if it is too much for me, this happiness, this hope, this thrill — what if I can’t take all this and I explode?

It will be …

And I smile, for at this moment it is plain to me, that I’m like that mayfly who will fly up and up and up, all the way to the sun, even if it means burning, even if it is its sure death.

Oh, it will be the most exquisite thrill, the most wonderful end.

I’m her mayfly; she’s my sun.

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