What is this feeling, overwhelming, new, yet somehow half remembered, uncomfortable, ferocious, and where even fear is not unknown? Is it the same when I look deep inside you? when I touch your hand? when I know you want me to be there (even though you do not speak or look at me)? when you struggle for the words to tell me what you want to say?
My heart races, I want to shout, laugh, cry, hold you, be still with you. I have known happiness, but this goes much further. Happiness belongs to the world; like the things of the world it can fade. Joy is of the spirit; it exists of itself, intense, in the spirit, yearning and fulfilment in one, and it will not let me go.