What draws her towards him?
What are the emotions, the feelings rushing through her soul, washing her in a flood of heat, passion, and finite, gasping breaths?
How can the gaze of two eyes, simple molecules entire with color and shape, so clearly bring forth a reaction as such a look transfers far more than mere syllables; again a simple sound yet whispered so softly as to evoke a stirring teasing sensation within her heart.
The moving form and structure beneath the human skin, vast in every detail still.
Two separate beings, in briefly brushing their fingertips together in a light touch, can feel more deeply than a single individual with all the power in the world.
When did it begin to rise, grow, and breathe within her soul?
Yet to even begin to fathom the question and trace any feelings, was a feat so far off as to begin to separate the salt from the waters of the sea; parting the very essence of an ocean to the simple magnificence of a stream or river.
She stood there, a silhouette, swaying against the fire-lit sky- a mystique being aglow as the setting sun illuminated her soft figure.
The zephyr gently teased her skirt and hair, blowing against her as softly as a mother dove coos at her vulnerable, innocent child.
She was beautiful in every form of the word and he stood in awe at the rushing surge of power, protection, and pure admiration he felt for such an individual creature, the feelings sweeping in a mad frenzy within him; as a cyclone sweeps across the prairie, growing and climaxing in it's rugged strength and noesis.
It is said that time erodes even the strongest structure.
It grinds away stone, steel, and earth, relentlessly starved and continuously feeding it's endless pit.
They say it tears, eats, and gnaws- a thing of endless destruction. But thus the stated pessimist continues in a distraught, empty direction; wandering on a path of his own misguided fall.
Yet time is still another gift, a joyous opportunity for the hopeful romantic, the faithful realist, the unflinching warrior.
It is the well of the past story filled with every wound and triumphant victory, drawing to the smiling, blissful present, and lost the the inspiring, ever-promising future.
It is the song that swells the heart of him that gently takes her hand and promises every breathless wish, surrendered to ecstatic glory and joy.
It is a path to the unseen future, whispering, laughing, softly sweet.
And over time, two hearts so close in tune, slowly meld into a single story-
never to be lost.
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