N.S.C.

I wonder at the magic of love albeit in the guise of mere infatuation or in a spiritual, deeper connection. What is that force that turns my head without conscious volition to meet your gaze when you stare at me? It is inexplicable, immortal - for what material expression of will, of longing or of intent could turn the tip of my chin to meet the force behind your eyes? I hardly know your name! And what exquisite torture I endure at that magical touch; A sensation down my spine like Dullstroom water on a blistering day when I am caught or the empty feeling of loss when you look away too quickly. It is a hex that I hope for every day, a climax or anti-climax that marks the passing of 24hr intervals and I pivot around these moments of magic.