The Wheel

 

  Were their lives prearranged? But how can that be possible? I may or may not fear the truth. Actually, I don't fear much of anything at all anymore.

Our fate may already be sealed by the turn of some monolithic, cosmic wheel, for that matter, a record of the future written eons ago the deciding factor. Where's the point in dawdling in metaphysical claptrap? Although, it still can't explain when I saw her the first time.

In appearance she was very young. Her face, set just so, affected an innocence that mirrored the little boy's perfect features at her side exactly. Once she became aware I was watching - I doubt anything missed her attention - the corners of her mouth curling, jawline rising ever so slightly, exposing a flawless throat. For the briefest of moments I imagined her offering it like ripe fruit for the taking.

"This can't be", I thought. Had she just made a gesture? My cheeks flushed a little. What the Hell was I thinking? I hadn't looked away, however. Her eyes, and their gaze, were inescapable. No shame or remorse there. Near crystalline in perfection.

I couldn't be sure. There it was again! Something imperceptible, yet like an expectation, perhaps. Or, a clever deceit? Intuition, maybe, revealed in her best feature, belying calm and wisdom beyond her years, or mine, of an awful knowing Consciousness. I knew my presence aroused it.

I turned aside, mumbled some hurried excuse and walked away.


spring crows,
languid in their searching --
the old school ground