Some people will assume it was all a figment of one’s young, fertile imagination. They will need this untruth to help them feel better at night. But the two sets of eyes who witnessed all of this will know differently. They will know that they were peeking at a great destiny. One of those lucky souls may even feel the need to diminish what happened, what was witnessed, what was felt - for the comfort of others. He may even errantly seek to self-flagellate himself for the decision to boldly jump over the fence and treat the world like the Lover’s playground that it should be. He may even call it a mistake… as though Pure Love could ever be. He may mistakenly think he can duplicate this with… well… exactly. Who?
He’ll avoid my eyes, because in them he’ll see a reflection of himself. He’ll see a heart that is soft for him. A soul that he has known - and that knows him - far more deeply than he’ll ever admit.
He is given to self loathing. Meaning to love him so nakedly and deeply quite possibly threatened to undermine this defeatist activity. I stand accused. Proudly.
