Of you, ethereal beauty is born, flooded in elegance. You are the Morning's favorite customer, and even the Sun awaits your arrival. Your wake is a breath of pristine air, for your time is my substance.
I cannot stand to look at you, for my eyes should not allow this privilege. Red-woven silk, cut sharp at your nape, golden-brown flecks enveloping your skin - milky, smooth, flawless. I am unworthy to touch.
Eyes that hold water, transforming their semblance - an ocean of color, an outlandish sea.
Wisdom and truth reside on your tongue, and a blameless navigator steers your words. The concession to listen is a gift undeserved.
You are a purpose, an ambition. You are an outlying star - something to be discovered. You are uncharted, unclaimed, untainted, a mystery.
Be my City of Gold, and let me find you, me alone.
I am your pioneer.