Arrival

"And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run." - A.S. Byatt, Possession

You are the middle of the story, where my favorite story begins.

You are an early morning, lovely and bright, you are beams of sunlight slanting on surfaces where dust motes dance gracefully upward, mimicking starlight.

You are a balmy breeze, kissing my cheeks, teasing my skin into dreaming of flight, glorious and terrifying.

You are a brisk walk along a sunlit side street.

You are the anticipation pushing the heart and feet to go faster, faster.

You are two pairs of eyes grazing each other from a distance, locking, gazing away and returning, unlocking and meeting again.

You are the mind soaring, looking for a wall to lean against, because unsteady, because uncertain.

You were last week's thoughts, yesterday's pang of regret, last night's gaping absence, the dawn's promised sight.

You are the quiver along the spine, the tremor in the heart, the ray of light rippling the soul.

And you are, finally, finally, the beaming smile in a crowd--the face that has haunted my dreams night after night--breathtaking, oh, so breathtaking to at last behold, looking at me, smiling at me.

You are the word luminous.