The Dance - an anecdotal introspection
(Proverbs 4:23, 31:3)
I attached to this girl way too quick. An introduction on Tuesday, a hello on Thursday, a conversation on Friday and my heart was hooked. And here I stood watching as she danced with another man; violent swirlings, the same way the jealousy was moving in my heart. Mentally, I was on the aggressive, but I played it coolly. I had an edge. He moved as cunning as a cardboard box. But he had an edge; a young confident adonis who was no stranger to coaxing vixens with his charm. I didn’t want a battle. But we shared something primordial. It was beauty and beasts. We knew each other’s thoughts more potent than telepathy, his desires were for her, mine were against his. So we danced together to a rhythm of pride and power, under the thin cloak of diplomacy mixed with alcohol to form quite a delicate fabric. But, at the moment, we were both sharing a more relevant thought..a slow song would soon play, and as tradition goes, there’s only one man per woman fellas. On the perimeter of the dance circle I stood, appearing relaxed and somewhat disengaged, like I could have been pondering the peculiarities of the steppes antelope. I even threw a little lazy eye in for gusto. At some point she materialized by my side. It was pleasant. I felt like growling. I was fully alert when the slow tempo melody began, and it was no surprise when I saw that other wolf slithering up in my peripheral vision. I turned and demanded a dance just as he thrust his menacing arm between myself and lady A. However, I took the dance in a beautiful split second victory and the words we shared were a golden cornucopia of delights. Soberly, I was aware of misfortune. I was at the whims of her attention. To see her touched..to see her touch, even in innocence, battered my heart. I know the game. An innocent touch is a myth. The illusion of it casts the spell on a tender heart. And my heart was in her hand. I didn’t put it there, it leapt on its own. Part of me wanted to see them together..the romance building, she being swept off her feet into his patsy embrace while grinding me into powder. Then it’d be over, we would know where we stood, and I could reassemble myself in the privacy of my own disarray. But I took the dance, albeit in hollow satisfaction, knowing she was meant for arms that didn’t belong to me. That’s okay, I thought, perhaps I’ll keep her well preserved until the hero comes along. But the price would be a heavier and slower trampling. I will not be a false keeper. I will not be a man in chains. If the woman has my strength, I’m weak. So this I cannot give her. I’ll be her brother. But if she’s my queen, let her walk beside me, bringing nourishment, and I’ll gladly fatten her on the loves and fruits of my strength.
I attached to this girl way too quick. An introduction on Tuesday, a hello on Thursday, a conversation on Friday and my heart was hooked. And here I stood watching as she danced with another man; violent swirlings, the same way the jealousy was moving in my heart. Mentally, I was on the aggressive, but I played it coolly. I had an edge. He moved as cunning as a cardboard box. But he had an edge; a young confident adonis who was no stranger to coaxing vixens with his charm. I didn’t want a battle. But we shared something primordial. It was beauty and beasts. We knew each other’s thoughts more potent than telepathy, his desires were for her, mine were against his. So we danced together to a rhythm of pride and power, under the thin cloak of diplomacy mixed with alcohol to form quite a delicate fabric. But, at the moment, we were both sharing a more relevant thought..a slow song would soon play, and as tradition goes, there’s only one man per woman fellas. On the perimeter of the dance circle I stood, appearing relaxed and somewhat disengaged, like I could have been pondering the peculiarities of the steppes antelope. I even threw a little lazy eye in for gusto. At some point she materialized by my side. It was pleasant. I felt like growling. I was fully alert when the slow tempo melody began, and it was no surprise when I saw that other wolf slithering up in my peripheral vision. I turned and demanded a dance just as he thrust his menacing arm between myself and lady A. However, I took the dance in a beautiful split second victory and the words we shared were a golden cornucopia of delights. Soberly, I was aware of misfortune. I was at the whims of her attention. To see her touched..to see her touch, even in innocence, battered my heart. I know the game. An innocent touch is a myth. The illusion of it casts the spell on a tender heart. And my heart was in her hand. I didn’t put it there, it leapt on its own. Part of me wanted to see them together..the romance building, she being swept off her feet into his patsy embrace while grinding me into powder. Then it’d be over, we would know where we stood, and I could reassemble myself in the privacy of my own disarray. But I took the dance, albeit in hollow satisfaction, knowing she was meant for arms that didn’t belong to me. That’s okay, I thought, perhaps I’ll keep her well preserved until the hero comes along. But the price would be a heavier and slower trampling. I will not be a false keeper. I will not be a man in chains. If the woman has my strength, I’m weak. So this I cannot give her. I’ll be her brother. But if she’s my queen, let her walk beside me, bringing nourishment, and I’ll gladly fatten her on the loves and fruits of my strength.
posted by PeaceCore at 11:23 AM
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