This is a letter I’m currently working on and preparing to give to the one I’m writing about…

No matter what you believe, nothing has broken my heart more than you believing that you are not beautiful and hearing you say such. So before/after/as you get ready this evening, I want you to know—as you look into that mirror even before a touch of make-up—the truth. For I would be a lying fool if I ever thought anything less of you than beautiful. No matter what this past year has brought, I pray you see that again.

What you see in the mirror is a woman who is beautiful beyond any measure. Rare, remarkable, awe-inspiring sublimity of peace and perfection in every detail and subtly. From every grain of hair as precious as grain in a nation suffering of famine to the very freckles that softly and tenderly kiss your skin in the shapes of constellations; the ambiguity of your beauty personifies Heaven and conciliates a warrior long plagued by the black veils of the world. Yet, it haunts me to hear you think otherwise of yourself. How can you look into this mirror with such wayfaring eyes that stretch the stars and the seas through every harvest moon and see anything less than beauty? How can you hide your smile when every curve compliments those dimples better than the sunset’s reply to every sunrise? Or the way your hair parts and moves like a summer wind across the Great Plains through your ears—even when you first wake up? The Shenandoah Valley summons all breath as it embraces you once again.

From the Smokey’s to Blue Ridge, all has braced as you took time to appreciate its peaks, for they stopped all to catch a glimpse of those eyes. Back then, I was but a boy, unsettled by the admonition that every other possible display of splendor and awe will remain odious, lacking, and disappointing. Yet still, such majestic elegance called upon every depth in my soul, tempting me to fall—and I didn’t just fall, I jumped without hesitancy—dove into all that you are. I thought I knew beauty then, but as I learn more and gain wisdom, you are ever the more beautiful. Nature knows this, for It has waited endlessly and patiently to bask at such a daughter. As with the Birthmark, others may see imperfection and flaw, yet God has constructed a flawless being that makes Pygmalion’s attempts feeble or the Eve of Powers lacking or Helen’s qualities insignificant. For every vein in such idiosyncratic marble—every sin and stride—there is no greater ecstasy than my shrewd and cavernous eyes gazing upon every inch of you.

Believe it or not, know that you are proof that God exists because no one could be designed in such an intricate and wonderful way. You are proof that nature isn’t the only thing that exhibits beauty, for Mother Nature characterizes Her makings, the kingdom in which you delve, through your inspiration. One may travel the world and see wonders of waterfalls or the open sea, valleys with piercing rivers, or rainforests that harvest an abundance of life and peace, or even take to the skies and admire that which houses all beneath yet find that all the colors of the world are jealous and yield in your presence. Every glimmer of light, every breath of air, and every heartbeat dances and sings a tune with an open dance floor for you to explore and bewilder conjured minds. The sun and the moon fight for time to gaze upon such, knowing full well that the warmth of your embrace is unparalleled. For you walk in beauty, like the night of cloudless climbs and star-spangled skies; and all that is best dark and bright collide in your aspect and reside in your eyes. Even the blind reach as if petals upon the morning sun freshly awakened by welcoming dew. No wine shall ever quench the taste of your precious and soft lips nor will ease that which troubles over you. I have full confidence in you, for you “lack nothing of value” and are “clothed with strength and dignity”. You are so blessed with an aberrant combination of inner and outer beauty. Angelic, extraordinary, lacking no elegance or class, yet your full beauty resides in discretion as well, an adventure that never ends nor ceases to move its hero. For kings would trade a thousand treasures to set foot on such an odyssey. ‘Tis but a fruit of sweet serenity that reminds us of our mortality, yet forever taunting eager souls and breaking that of lesser men.

The very rush of your skin crashes into me like waves upon a coastline, giving rise to the tide under a midnight sky from which pure twilight reflects the glimmering sea as the sand beneath hardened and long traveled feet erodes and carries me towards a stilled scene that turns to stained glass upon the morning sun. Where tears of your absence turn to wholesome pearls and even wrath suspends; what exhilarating tranquility coexists in memory of such white shores and silver treasures, not forgotten though long since welcomed. A distinctive yet uncanny euphoria slowly chills the spine before engulfing that which has long been built to withstand; an imperceptible rush promising bliss and danger as if Eden grew all around you. The thought of touch, so simple a thought, erects every hair and nerve, enchanting even the fiercest of men and making every other daughter bask in jealousy. Whatever will he savored then turned by the spell in between your fingers, clasped like static and stands but as stagnant as such as reminiscence. All the waters of the seas drop off the edge in between the breaths before serenity and an infinite flame takes hold, warming that which has long remained frozen; tempting to thaw before falling. What was barren and bare, desolate and inhospitable becomes fulfilled and everlasting just from an embrace.

A voice paralleling angels and the songbirds of spring singing harmonic lullabies to berserker’s minds, calling a prodigal back home after the longest isolation. Words like spring rain knocking on every wall, for even the most guarded or wise cannot hesitate to answer. Even a sequestered soul in purgatory may find hope of finding home by the sound of your voice, and the deaf see that such beauty reveals itself through the ripples of you singing. Chaos dissipates, and a maypole waves in the valley’s grace as a curtain may be relieved of its place on stage to reveal all that is and will be a masterpiece. A rugged and intimidating man waits patiently to expose careful gentleness and plead to hear his name, for the very memory nearly haunts him as he’s seen the lesser lack appreciation. He’s nearly forgotten her whisper; he’s nearly forgotten his name A once fearless wanderer now trembles at a thought so precious and rare, such sound echoing in his mind form lips awaiting a midnight street light or starry night. And a mere thought of your flirt sears doubt and plants hope where there need not be any.

Yet, you see with eyes that are unjustified and plagued by what tortures souls. You see yourself through the judgments of those that cannot define beauty for themselves, nor appreciate it. It’s a shame that simple, lesser, foolish men take such for granted. Yet your beauty is one that has changed the most stubborn and ignorant of men. Even he sees that you are more precious than any jewel, or any amount and combination of treasures or worldly nonpareils—that nothing he has nor ever will desire will compare with you. “You are altogether beautiful; there is no flaw in you”. Do not go back to the feeble and asinine for your beauty to seem faded and decrepit.

The God of all made you wonderfully, beautifully, and perfectly. I pray you look into this mirror through Heaven’s eyes. I only ask that you try through mine; you’d see a beauty so raw, so pure and true, so incredible that it allures and conquers even those unwilling to see, shaking with trepidation, in fear that nothing will ever compare. I’m reminded of God’s beauty and magnificence every time I see you.

Every time you look at me, know that my mind is filled with such thoughts—not just tonight, but forever. Whatever doubt you may have, I will never cease to look upon you in wonder and awe, so please forgive me when I can’t nor won’t take my eyes off of you.