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As my sense perceives, I praise you:
A treasure trove worth more than gold,
Or the infinitely-layered pearl
Whose secret growth transcends all else
In its shell. I must confess myself 
To fantasize — visions of being worthy of you
Are numerous, and tend to swarm, 
Leaving me breathless and heartsick. 
Insect songs played on firefly-lit nights 
Are nothing to the passions
With which you have bewitched me;
Even occasional irritations cannot
Cloud my admiration completely. 
You exist for me, from within and outside;
An inspiration — a spirit arousing all
Spectrums of thoughts and feelings. 
Why do you excite me so? 
Even the myriad of humanly imperfections 
You possess are perfect. Have I dreamed of you? 
I must have done - I refuse to think that we are 
Not some extension of each other,
Brought together from far-reached ends.

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