Wonder

These moments are the reasons why I am glad I exist. However, it is only when they both touch—fingertip to fingertip, lips to cheek, skin to skin—that I move.

They are odd creatures, these human people. I have watched the earth as it was molded from fire and chaos, creation stumble into existence, supernovas burst before my feet, and yet, nothing has fascinated me more than people. That’s why I like to make little havens in the pockets their souls.

Perhaps I am in yours right now.

Awe, bewilderment, fascination, reverence—ever since I have seen people sprout from the earth, they have been trying to find words to describe me. It is understandable; I like to be subtle, mysterious. Simple, yet complex. However, there is one word people have created that has always had a melodic cadence to me. I can’t help being drawn to the word, any less than people can help but be attracted to me.

The word is wonder. Two-syllables, with a hard consonant that could cleave the word into two if you said it hard enough.

I adore the name wonder. It fits me quite well, don’t you agree?

Those who identify me correctly—I will treat you well. I like to think I am a special breed of wonder; I travel between souls. I am the shiver down your spine, the twitch of your lips, the widening of your eyes when you meet someone particularly extraordinary. Perhaps you find wonder in the sweep of their hair, or the lilt in their voice, or the loveliness of their face—although they can’t possibly be as pretty or handsome as me.

Then, you lean in to touch them, and <i>snap</i>. That is all it really takes—a dusting of wonder and a brief touch between souls—for me to slide from you into them. After that, you will always find wonder in them; it’s an unbreakable bond. Then it’s up to you what to do with it. And I don’t leave because I don’t like you personally; it’s just that when you find wonder in someone else, I can’t help doing the same, and I get curious. And when you’re armed with curiosity and a lack of self control…can you blame me?

Don’t worry; you won’t miss me. I always leave behind a residue wherever I have been, although you can’t see it with your sad little orbs you call eyes.I will tell you what it looks like: a trail of glittering stardust.

It’s quite exquisite—as it should be. I had to reach out and crush the stars to create this dust, just for you. One day, when you take a step back and see a dazzling smear of iridescence on your soul, you know I was there, with you.

One last thing: I beg of you, don’t let your wonder rot away. Stardust doesn’t shine after it has rotted. I’d have to somehow wrestle my way back to you. I can only crush so many stars.