Dearest Adieu;
Though its thought troubles my heart deeper than a will of restraint might withhold my fears; there is no other respectable form to place my words. Insufferable as cliches can determine this love unfathomable, there is a sense more prideful than a simple caring of my visage or the presence of ambition. My love for you has scarcely been told, but the evidence of which now grasps intently upon my eyes and smothers the breath of my heart. To know of peril beyond recovery; to be born to the end of twilight holding no moon for guidance after the words, what expectations exist that mar only the circumstance without accusations holding to the past?
You would have us look to the East again, the rain elegantly releasing the snare of the boa around our motivation. If not for your prowess in spirit through all, that sun would set and rest beyond time for the benefit of naught. Your eyes coerce our drives: the never-ending expectation for the wind to blow again, the petals to open and reign in beauty, the prowl of the panther to continue its hunt.
Though my sorrow touches deep into my soul, I know yours hides behind your loving protection. The standard set before ever such times were born reside with us, there living your spirit evermore. Find nirvana in your serenity; the sway of willow leaves beckon on the horizon. Let its call be yours.
Blessed Be.
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