It’s a thought hanging on the edge, your first inclination is to reach out and grab it before the fall. The bright colors and sparkles are enough to compel a heart to action, but what if the thought isn’t for you. A trick of the eye, the light can rearrange the image to fit. And a soul desperate for the comfort of inspiration will latch.
As it begins to pull you, vision clears to authenticity. The edges solidify; that’s when you realize the passing glance wasn’t yours. The smile, a play on the strings, captured the wrong soul. Two pieces push and press finding a way to fit, discovering in the frustration, the ends are off. The heartache is inevitable. Where the glimpse of love once stood, the truth of lust shines with such a glare it leaves you wondering how the mistake was made.
The almost and what could have been cross your lips in sighs. You ponder the purpose of moments woven with self-destruction, laying the fault in fate. Some loves have no destiny, the lies roll so easily from souls seeking survival. And there is a whisper of truth in self-soothing mantras.
Wisdom may not sit for any length, but love isn’t tainted with conventions of reality. It floats on the cliff waiting for the next longing. Knowing the soul’s desire to be tethered, its unparalleled patience is tipped with just enough whimsy to enrapture the mind past caution. You may not feel the poke, but the next time you see the sparkle about to tumble, take a moment to consider the fall.