To her…

Without the mention of her name; to spare any skepticism or disdain.

I’m not sure whether to write to her or about her. You see, to write to her would be a vision. It would be a collection of every fleeting thought, every moment observed, fused into a stream betwixt the consciousness and unconsiousness of my mind in a general effort of providing the incentive for her to do something. But to write about her, that would give away this piece. That would broadcast why through the tenderness of her heart I write for her instead of hand her a gift this Christmas. You see, it’s uncommon these days to come across one like this one. One who’s heart is big enough to love a people in their entirety. One who sees potential where others see failure. Benevolent by nature, giving without any constraint. She carries herself, exalted by bliss. Oblivious to the effect she has on people, unaware of the elation she embellishes people with. She is not without flaws but her grace prevails over this. For I love her so, without any limitations, and you would do the same too if you bear witnessed to her radiation.