Kismet?

We walk, we wander through the streets of a busy market intersection, hundreds of people around us, each oblivious to each other. We live two completely separate lives, for now… But through the crowd, the throng of people pushing and shoving, shouting their way to the fishmongers and shoe-salesmen, we bump into each other. In this chaotic jumble of faces and voices, we stop and feel something. It could be something as simple as a touch, with our eyes, for even that touch is felt right deep within our souls, if you let it…

The noise in the streets is drowning, the colours and shapes fleeting and inconsistent, blurry figures roam around us in misshapen forms as they roam around leaving trails of their purpose behind. Some weave their paths towards certain intention, and the others leave behind hints of forgotten commitment. We stand in there, somewhere between the two, somehow, we might possibly stray paths and kismet.

You are but an ideal to the imaginary void i need to fill. A solid reality to the fantasy that I have created within my mind, the perfect stranger to meet the mystery that is me. You may be the one person yet unknowing, of any past, previous, prior history of mine. A refreshing breath of fresh air to inhale. A new surface to explore, to discover how one touch might spark tingles down my spine, one kiss could make my knees weak, or even just a glance in my direction might make my heart race a thousand times faster. It could be kismet that our eyes meet across the street and I soak up your soul like dry earth on a rainy day.

I don’t know who you are, yet. But you seem familiar to me somehow, the thought of who we may be together brings a smile to my face and a warmth to my cheeks. I see you across the street and my impulse, my urge is to run to your arms, with the faintest hope that you will catch me. I seek your gaze, looking over the river of people cascading between us, standing on my tiptoes making every effort to not drown. I swim across, stroke after stroke, against the current reaching ever so slowly.

I don’t know who you are, yet. You may be someone looking elsewhere, trying to catch someone else’s eye in the crowd. You may be holding the hand of another woman, happily. You may be moving in with her, you may be marrying her. And all the fantastical possibilities of who we could be or could have been are getting washed away in this river of people, leaving me stranded on a lonely rock in its middle. I stand there, still awaiting a moment when the throb of the flow lets up, to cross that river and face you. You may still be there on the other side, and we finally say hello. Or you could be another face from the crowd of wandering eyes awaiting to catch a glancing pair to meet.

I don’t know who you are yet, but I am waiting to know you…

 

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