You are the sun that sleeps behind the buildings in the puddle of water;

a pure, strong but gentle, beautiful beam of light landing delicately and gracefully.

You give warmth, immense warmth. You are the most beautiful, strange thing I’ve ever seen, but you are not foreign; you are merely extremely unique.

You have grown strong; you began as a seed and grew into the magnificent date tree, able to withstand any condition, needing sustenance from no one but God, yet still bearing the sweetest, most delicious fruit, offering to anyone who can see it.

I wish I could care for you, but how can I when I am nothing in comparison to you.
I don’t even deserve to know of you, much less to receive anything from you.
I was in the right place at the right time, and now I’m obsessed with obtaining what seems impossible. I want heaven.

You fleet and return as you please. Your order is unknown and therefore you are seemingly unpredictable.

You try my conscience, and like the sheer curtain that hangs in front of a large window, reveal only some of your light- just enough to invoke interest and increase curiosity as to what is outside of the little house I know as my world. You do not give full details, nor should you, nor are you able to. I in fact believe you do not even know the true source of your light, but I appreciate your humility.

I know everyone can see you, but perhaps they lose interest quickly when you refuse to deliver information as easily as they are asking.