Let them see you, let them write a thousand words of you; let them paint masterpieces, let them sing fondly of your graces. Ensnare the world with your surreal appearance; let them fawn, worship, and envy the person you've become. You know that none of it matters lest the one you hold dear whispers to you a couple words, or draws themselves with you crudely sat against the bark of a tree, heads touching, as if connected; hands held together, as if tomorrow should never come. Let them sing in your ear a melody off-tune, and even so let it caress you as though heaven's angels played their harps. With you, always, your tail, will follow the spirit of my love which has not yet, and will never be, reduced to specks of smouldering ember. It will burn forever, and more. Sense it, but do not turn to cusp it in a moment of turmoil; let it remind you instead that whichever path you lead, another has followed, but solely I will choose to illuminate the path ahead--should you only choose to take your first step.