My Beloved 2 ...Eternally dedicated to my eternal love... Written by D. Samuel October 13th, 2001 My Beloved? Last I scribed to you I confessed my love for you. You enchant me in every way, And I am still drunk with your existence... Yet at the end of my letter, I realized that my love for you, Was to be the cure for your ailment of loneliness... Yet what I did not realize was, That my love was a diseased cure, And a poisoned antidote. My Beloved? When I came to first fall in love with you, I was of so young of an age, Yet my heart had been alive for an eternity. Alive with the fire and madness and chaos it existed within. Alive with dark deaths of destruction, Alive with the hopelessness of eternity, An eternity in which I would... An eternity in which I could never love. And the moment I fell in love with you, The fires calmed, The skies cleared, The sun rose for the first day in my world, And my love for you reigned supreme. My Beloved? When I first came to understand your magnificence, I realized that I could not be worth the actuality of experiencing such beauty. My Beloved? Why do I love you so much, you ask? Why do the stars shine at night? Why do the birds sing such sweet melodies? Why does the night love to chase the day? Asking such a question, Is like asking God why he exists. It is impossible to answer, And yet it is so clear. Why do I love you? Why do the artists see only your beauty in their works? Why do poems only speak of your magnificence? Why does the music sing only of how you enchant me? Why did God only create only one beauty on this Earth? Your beauty. All others are intruders, They are imposters of beauty. They use you... They use a single ounce of the joy you bring to this world, To try and pretend to be beautiful. But in the end, There is only one beauty that God created, And you are that beauty. My Beloved? Why do I love you? How could I answer such a question? How do I sit here and not love you? How does the world not love you? If I could take your beauty, And turn it into a color, I would paint with only that color. The clouds, The skies, The oceans, The sands, The winds... They would all be the same color of your beauty. For there is no other color that could ever denote such passion, Such majesty, Such holiness, Such purity, Such love. My Beloved? If I could take your beauty, And describe it with one word only, That would be the only word I would be to ever speak again. There would be laws passed in which no other word could be spoken. If I could take your beauty, And describe it with a song, Musicians, Singers, Violinists, There would be only one note of your beauty. And there would be cathedrals full of people desperately longing to hear that note... To hear that concert, To hear the symphony of music describing you. No other word would be allowed to be spoken, No other word would be allowed to be written... And yet... Unfortunately, There is not a word yet known to man, There is not a sound yet known to man, There is not a color yet known to man, To actually describe your beauty. There is nothing in existence, To truly describe how much I love you. And so, I scribe to you another letter, Trying to turn mere words, Into metaphors. And mere metaphors into... Into... Into pictures that the artists would paint with that color, Into songs that musicians and singers would play for... For cathedrals full of people longing to hear their symphony... Their symphony with the one note, That can attempt to show people an understanding of you... Of your beauty... Of your magnificence. My Beloved? How can I ever be worthy of you? What dragons must I slay? What rain must I make go away? How many poems describing your existence must I scribe? How many oceans must I swim, Before I could ever be worthy of your existence... Be worthy of experiencing such beauty in my presence. How could my presence ever be worthy of you? Is my heart? Is my heart worthy of you? Is my soul? My Beloved? You have my heart. You have had it since eternity began... And you shall have it, Until eternity ends. My Beloved? My soul... My soul longs for your existence... My mind races with thoughts of your existence... My eyes will shed tears to overflow rivers, For the sadness that overcomes me when I am not with you, Is more powerful than anything on this Earth... But not as powerful as the sight of your beauty. How did the prophets sculpt such magnificence? My Beloved? Why, after so long, do I still love you? Why do the... No, no, no. For reasons beyond me, My love was the poison in your drink. And the more I loved you, The more potent the poison would be. And as I tried to cure you with understanding, My antidote was poison as well. I never meant to cause you any pain. I never meant to glide the blade of my undying and eternal love, Against your veins of existence. Any harm that could come to you, I would wish for a thousand times more to come to me, So you would never suffer. I remember the day... I remember the day where I realized... That the more I loved you, The more pain I caused you. For whoever reads this letter, If anyone else is worthy of seeing an attempt at describing my love's beauty... For whoever will read this letter... Try to understand... To understand what a decision... A decision that I made... A decision to stop loving someone, Because my love for them, Caused them great pain. Yes, my love. I realized that my love was the cancer upon your soul, I realized that my existence would never be worthy of you. Yes, my love. If you ask me to, I shall die, Die knowing that... That all I could ever do, Was love you.