Why do they say you fall in love?

As if you just happen to stumble into a void,

no doubt lured to the edge by some trick of the light that catches your eye

or so it seems at least.

Who can say what will steal your heart, when, or why?

And as if eager to unite you with the object of your fascination,

a strange gravity takes over, tugging pulling accelerating.

The fall is not at all unpleasant,

even if the destination remains curiously obscured,

and even though the fall is not entirely in your control.

Faster and faster you fall, passing catching stealing

glimpses of wonder along the way…

An unguarded half-smile,

a twinkle in the eye on a moonlit night,

the familiar smell of a shared meal,

and a voice you begin to cherish like a childhood lullaby.

The faster you fall, the slower time flies.

(That’s a scientific fact.)

And what are you falling into exactly?

Alas, I blame every poet who came before

for holding back, not singing their souls dry

about the realm where time stands still

where every dream and memory and affection mingle into one.

Perhaps they are not entirely to blame.

Pity after all the fool whose heart has been stolen.

Faster and faster you fall.

The faster you fall, the slower time flies.

The air feels fresher,

the din of the world subsides,

the view becomes clearer…

And suddenly you see…

It was no trick of the light that lured you in!

Why, this fresh mountain air is giving me new perspective.

Maybe, just maybe we had our directions mixed up.

We don’t so much fall in love as rise in love.

The higher you rise, the closer you get to the star

that was meant for you and you alone.

Pity the fool whose heart has been stolen.

A madman’s life for him.

You might spot him smiling to himself,

musing on cherished memories,

mumbling failed lines of poetry for his beloved,

worshipping his star as it grows ever-brighter.

Convinced beyond any doubt that there is no better way to spend a life…

And who would dare to tell him any differently?