Losing My Head

I've never progressed beyond the initial thrill of completely, recklessly losing my head.

It's little things at first, like when a small smile becomes a sunrise, and when I remember a laugh can be the best sound in the world and then I figure it out, and then it's an inexorable Eureka that fills me up to overflowing, and my cynical side vainly groans "here-we-go-again" but I can't hear over my surging heart 'cause it's in my head and it's the throbbing beat to a wild, tumbling melody of a song that reminds me of her and there's fiddles and guitar and my own voice singing besides - and how can I keep all that to myself?

So I tell her.
And I want to ask if maybe she's heard the musical riot and dance thrumming in my head and in my lungs and all through me and if maybe she likes that it's for her -
Only I never quite get there, because even over the thrilling, I can hear her hesitate, and maybe-God-is-teaching-me-contenment-but-haven't-I-learned-it-Lord? and oh, I've given away too much, too soon.


The music never fades out nicely. It is all breaking strings and sloppy decrescendos and badly tuned violins.
But it does fade.
Is it God reminding me over and over that He comes first? That love is commitment, and not just excitement?
Probably.
I wonder - is He also preparing me to really value Someone He approves of, who does understand, and loves that the ridiculous boyish turmoil mucking about in my head is just for her?

If not, there is always heaven, and there'll be a whole different Eureka there that lasts forever, and how can you read that and not feel better?

'"Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.'
             --Psalm 46:10, 11