Your anticipation mounts.
You have waited for this, forever it seems.
The thoughts of it have consumed you.
Every fibre of your being in poetic agony, just wishing, wanting, having to have it.

Then it appears. Right there, in front of you.
You look at it with a desire so complete, so focused, there is nothing
else that exists. You are astounded.
Time stops. Your breath quickens.
You approach with a childlike abandon.

You are within arms reach, yet, you prolong the pleasure of having it one moment longer in order to make it last as long as possible, your ferocious need softens to a deep, soft, curious gaze. It has been so far, for so long, you cannot believe this moment has arrived.

It is so perfect. Clear and still.
Not a flaw.

The coolness contrasts with the heat of the immediate atmosphere.
It sweats.
Small, crystalline beads. Glorious and poignant.
Teasing you to take it.

Finally you can no longer stand to be without.
You reach, your hand gently but firmly grasping.
You feel the cool wetness, the beads you so admired are now
destroyed by your very touch, melting into your palm.
The only sound is your heart.

Lifting it to your mouth, you open fully and let it come to you.
And it does.
The shock of the temperature change, from your hot mouth to it’s icy cool, throws you. Ice grips your insides, wrenches your tongue into contortions. Your mouth throbs with numbness. In fear of more pain, you quickly and forcefully put it down.
You don’t know what to do with it now, it’s true character shown.
But, as you stare in amazement, your hand never leaving it’s side, you realize just how much you really want it. You must have more.
You prepare yourself for the shock, hoping to dull it and ready yourself for it.

Reaching again, for what seems like miles, you hesitate. You want it, so badly, but you are frightened. You just know it will hurt, it must, it did.
Bracing yourself, you slowly, cautiously lift it to you once again.

Again, it willingly comes to you, you make it go slower this time. More cautiously, controlling it’s nature, you finally relent and allow it to happen.
It flows over your tongue, the icy shock now gone, replaced by a pleasant sharpness.
You roll it around, savouring the tiny mouthful – still, you hesitate to allow it to completely enter. You shake, wanting and fearing it.
Then suddenly, you can’t resist any longer.
You draw it into you with a feral force.
An ancient essence, barely perceptible, washes over you.
A feeling, a connection with something so pure, so real, engages your every cell.
It’s earthiness so light, barely perceptible.

Tiny stories of age old travels, eons of life and paths taken, they take you.
You journey with them, with it.
It has seen everything, touched everything, knows everything.
Hearts and minds and leaves and petals, rocks and silt and metal and wood.
It’s in you now.

Mellowing, silkily it trickles it’s new path into you.
A sense of deep satisfaction comes over you.
You feel renewed.
Discovered.

Satiated, you put it down once again.
This time, you don’t let go. You admire it, turning it every which way.
Your hand never leaving it, for fear of it disappearing, vapourizing in front of your very eyes.

You get lost in it.

You finally shake yourself out of your transfixed state, your needs quelled, the intense desire now gone.
But it’s still there. It’s still in you. You believe it always will be.

You let go of it.

Your attention turns. Ancient paths temporarily forgotten.
Time starts again. You breathe. Other hearts are audible.

Later, turning back with a slight sense of propriety,
it is gone.

Evaporated.

One last crystalline bead glistens in the dull light.
It trails itself slowly down, falling gently, disappearing with finality.
Absorbing back into the earth that bore it.
Finding it’s new path and leaving you to only want more.