Cause and Effect

I get drunk on Him. He is an intoxicating elixir of scents and being that stirs my blood and reactions that I have no control over. I melt internally, with a thrumming ecstasy vibrating to crescendos of promise that draw me in ever closer. My smitten delight has grown into a bloom of hopefulness and need, decorating my skin with it's tell tale signs.

And all this - just by seeing Him.

I suppose the price of such reactions, coupled with the knowledge gifted in moments of observation and interaction, infuses a sense of awareness into the mix. It is not difficult to tell when Brave Warrior Fonce is introspective, quiet, lost in thoughts and places most of us do not see. I can sometimes pluck a sense of irritation from the surrounding air, or a brewing anger, or even frustration. This night, the faint scent of paga that clung to Him was ... to my feelers... a perfect mask for something else that radiated and alternately heated and cooled the air.

I thought the close proximity of the Artisan to be a nice torment, a pleasurable comfort. It confused me a bit that what kept getting exchanged seemed more painful than tender, more heart breaking than compelling. Much was going on around us. Red was trying to get me to eat meat. People were coming and going. Life would not stop though I desperately wanted it to. I wanted...

to make it better.

I would have done anything, and truly all those anythings kept springing through my mind. Ideas that soothed, some that simply acted as an open vessel, and even the taunting idea of a physical release for all that was pent up and brewing inside. His idea of 'anything' was departure. My heart fluttered after Him, with the hope that someday I 'can' make a difference. My mind stayed put, suspiciously examining all around me trying to seek out the source of my Master's discontent.