It is lyk the feeling you get wen you fall off the ledge with your eyes closed, the wind on your face and the europhia of flying up your senses.
It is exhilarating to say the least, the most powerful ever devised by nature for humankind. Nothing can ever compare to it: the sense of utter bliss that wraps one in an embrace so tight and so fast you feel like you can almost do anything.
It comes without warning, and always catches one unaware in unguarded moments that often times it wreaks the worst havoc before one can come to terms with it. And there is no telling when it would strike: a simple day in the company of the world, a smile, a whiff of perfume wafting in the air, an accidental momentory meeting of flesh, a simple conversation, and then it grabs you.
And it fills you, gives your feet wings your mind is tricked into the impression that you can glide. It fools the senses. The eyes become clear and dewey at the same time, giving it a strange sparkle that eludes explanation from even the most well-versed of human biology. The cheeks become flushed with color and warmth which not even the coldest wind of December could ever dampen. The lips glow to fullness, giving oneself the impression that the body has gone haywire over a few pheromones.
It could not be explained. To attempt to even explain it would drive men to throes of insanity. Only those that have never felt it would ever entertain the idea of dissecting it. For once it bites, all logic and reason fail; science and everything else take the back seat and one is consumed to near exhaustion.
It offers a glimpse of heaven, unless heaven gives one a state of higher bliss. Otherwise heaven is nothing more than a sham.
It is pure, primal pleasure at its rewest: not dulled by dictates of intellect and conscience. It lowers one’s defenses: make the fragrances sweeter, the colors more vibrant, the textures more pronounced and the sounds more musical even if in reality they would not live to one’s normal expectations.
It shows the world a new light that would normally be hidden by the shadows we create for ourselves: whether that world is hallucination or the real thing we perceive it to be.
It bears our soul to the world in all its naked glory and for a brief moment there is no shame felt for what we are. Our masks are cast away, the falls façade splintering to pieces and there is no resistance.
The veils of prejudice are lifted and for once we forget the ills that haunt us. Problems fade like the darkness chased away by the light and we are reborn again.
For a fleeting instant, we are the masters of the universe. All cares in the world are cast adrift into nothingness and we set free. The boundaries of space and time are blurred and our lives are offered to us at are own leisure.
For once, we feel complete, as if all empty spaces of ourselves are miraculously filled up and we are whole.
………….
But only just. For like punctuation marks, it is just as fleeting. Like the drug that it is, its effects will wane. The colors will fade and everything will revert back to the dullness of normalcy. But its aftertaste will remain when all else are gone; its memoirs will be seared deep into memory which will be carried on by the soul to eternity.
It will leave a mark that can never be removed: a reminder of our huminity.
An indelible reminder that we have lived.
