I was trying to describe you to someone a few days ago. The odd problem arose that we have never met, my gaze never having the pleasure of meeting yours.
I couldn't say, "Well, He looks just like how he's described in the book, an average looking man wearing average looking clothes, but conducting extraordinary miracles."
I couldn't say that because there's no clue about your designation anywhere at all.
I finally ended up describing you as A Spring Day. A simple idea but anything but a simple feeling.
The warmth of the sun sparing it's wrath and gently kissing my shoulders and the light breeze of the wind chilling my skin in perfect harmony.
But also representing the giving of life, the birthing of true purpose and beauty, as birds hatch out of their eggs in cascades of chirping song and bunnies leaving their burrows to feel the soft prickling of grass touch their fur.
The kind of warmth only present in the company of the best friend, a type of peace, love, joy capable of euphorically lifting your arms in blissful praise. Warmth that radiates from the soul and covers you in your own spiritual blanket made of light, invulnerable to the torment of life because with you- I am invincible.
Anguish cannot harm me. Jealousy departs from my soul. Anger escapes from my heart.
In feeble attempts of the past, I wanted more than anything to to be honored with the ability for good, the capability for purpose. But most of all, I wanted to feel worthy of care and to experience and bide in the ultimate form of love- an unwavering, unchanging, unconditional love. Yet, why must I always have to remind myself that I have found it with you. You are Love.
I'm worthy of your love and now that's become enough for me.