I think that the infatuation of premise without the actual presence of premise has a very intoxicating allurement. It’s a serene state, a scenario that plays out in the conscious mind. It’s the blue of an eye, the crack of a smile or the moment of gesture. It’s a walk, or a laugh, or a connecting glance. It’s that little skip of a heartbeat that leaves the lungs gasping for air.
It can be sustained in an instant, sown in the grainy sands of time or fabricated in a facsimile of a thought. It’s something that is beyond one’s control and is unable to be contained. It’s life within life. A moment created on the horizon of subconsciousness. It’s the shyness that accrues the instant it’s realized. It’s the smile the surfaces as you look away before it can be noticed.
Infatuation of premise is validation of emotion. The lack of presence means it has been placed just out of reach. A brass ring inches beyond one’s grasp. This keeps it from ever being obtained. This also keeps it from ever fading away. The brass ring always appears to be more desirable while it’s hanging on the hook than it does looped around a wrist. Keeping it from reality keeps it from being buried in the quickening of the sand.
Infatuation is something that takes on a life all its own. It’s not real or unreal. It’s not deep but not shallow. It can be lost just as easily as it can be developed. Not to be mistaken with premise of allurement or the reaction to excitement. A spark the excites is the roar of an engine, the perfectly thrown spiral or the first dip on a four-story coaster ride. Allurement is the desire of contact, the hypnotic effect of beauty and the wonderment of the unknown. Infatuation is unexpected and unsolicited. It’s the hand on a shoulder that rises the sun and brings the purity of light into a grand design.
Infatuation happens on the surface yet is compiled under a series of layers in one’s character. It is a sign of humanity. It can’t be resisted and it’s impossible to free. It’s the daze you fall under the moment you notice it. It’s a tunnel of vision that distorts what’s beyond. It’s the chimera of an underlining vision. A fool’s paradise in Utopia. It’s the escaping giggle, the fluttering heart and the palm trees in the desert.
It’s not Eden, it’s not Eve. It’s not even the tree or the fruit it bears. But it’s the thought of the knowledge that comes with its taste.
It’s an absolutely beautiful thing.
Infatuation with the presence of premise is easy.
Infatuation without it can be completely overwhelming.
It’s the hole in the rock.
It’s paradise lost.
(Now if you have any idea of just what I am talking about, than you have been there before. If you are confused, than you’ve either pulled the brass ring or you’ve never been on the ride).