She seems to emit a light, compared to which everything else pales, yet by which all else is beautified. It is not something able to be seen, yet only by sight is it observed.
My mind wanders into a newly blossoming realm, birthed by absorption of her world into mine. I drift into could be, would be, always hopeful to be. Future becoming past in a present eclipsing both. I emerge on the other side with a smile, floating back down to my comfy, cushioned seat.
She reminds me what beauty really is. Monet painted shadows, Mozart sounded echoes. She makes me rediscover that all the finest works of man, no matter how beauteous they may be, are but pieces of a greater whole. Not a one of them will ever measure up to the breathtaking gift of beauty humanity has in each other, a glimpse of beauty yet to come.