Saturday, the 28th of June, 2014

I met a person today, to use the medium of speech, written word or music or painting to describe her would be an insult to the near perfection that stood before me this morning. Speaking to her was like being born again, we found we had many likenesses and areas of interest that both cross our mental appreciation spheres in our minds. Although we only spoke for most of the day, it felt like we had connected, a link that was forged in the fire of our hearts; an unquenchable flame that could burn for ages if tendered and looked after properly.

To my great sadness, she was to be gone in the evening as her train arrived at and left the station not long after 7 o clock. So throughout my time with this celestial being, one Judas-like thought was tugging at my ever straining heartstrings, our impending separation. For the first time in a while, I felt like I had to keep her at all costs to stop her leaving, but I knew she had to catch it. Should I stay here in my house or try and find her? I feel like no distance at all can separate us, and deep down I know this is what I really want, but all this time of being sure of my feelings for her, not once had I even considered if the feelings were reciprocated let alone understood or received.

Love is a curious thing; it builds our hopes up, keeps them up and when it sees fit, destroys them before our very eyes. Yet we as people seek it out for the exhilaration and the thrill of the chase. I do not usually try and engage myself with the idea or topic of love as I know it will end badly; but once, just for once, I feel that it will not lead our hearts astray, the bond from me to her can only be made stronger if she had a similar bond with that which I felt. Her goddess-like face, her smile as beautiful as the sunset and her eyes as preciously stunning as gemstones, and her hair as flowing as the ever changing ocean; will ever haunt my dreams until I either win this angel and call her mine or feel the ice cold shard of rejection piercing my heart. For now, all I can feel is one feeling which fills my being, a feeling in the shape of a dove; a feeling so pure it is whiter than any white and as perfect as perfection itself.

Hope.