It’s that moment the roller coaster teeters on the top of the incline that you are aware of the impending drop. Your stomach prepares itself for the somersault about to take place in the depths of your body. That beautiful rush of electric butterflies, terror, excitement, and fear take over, and in that instant you are truly present.
That’s the spark that overcomes my soul when you smile.
I will not settle for less than that; I know that passion loses strength over time and the stomach acrobatics will fade, but they should never disappear completely.
It’s that internal flame that brings me to life again. It wakes me up in the middle of the night with a smile on my face because somehow you’ve crept your way into my dreams. It ignites me, and the world stops spinning for just that moment.
I could swear right then that nothing else exists.
That’s how I feel when I know I could fall. I hope that somewhere along the plunge down, my wings will catch the wind at just the right angle and slow my descent; however, I am not blind. I know very well that I may fall the whole way and only if I’m lucky will I walk away only bruised and scarred. And sure, some will fade, but I know that some will linger as everlasting reminders that the wind couldn’t hold my weight this time.
That feeling is how I know I just might lose myself. But if you don’t lose yourself at least a little bit in love, it isn’t really love.
I will measure the wind and take note of the trees I might collide with in my path of free-fall. I will not leap without first removing the blindfold and gauging my likelihood of soaring. Sometimes it’s too cluttered with foliage or the breeze isn’t more than an exhale and I know not to stand too close to the edge. Sometimes though, the conditions are laid out so perfectly that I will jump and fall willingly because I know that this could be the moment I finally fly.
There is no flying without first falling; the two must occur together or wings have no wind of which to grab hold.
I am learning to listen closely to the electric butterflies; the deafening crackle that echoes through my veins as their wings shock my insides.
I will close my eyes and hope more than I have ever hoped that the wind will carry me, at least for a little while, until plunging me down in to the dirt. I will take this leap of faith for one simple reason, and one simple reason alone.
You, my dear, are worth the shock, the fall, and the possibility of shattering, and for you I will take that risk.