Page 10 - The First Letter To My Lady.

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plotting pathways out to surviving the coming year – I

wonder. I wonder what could possibly be worthy of this

coming 25th. What exactly could I say? Perhaps through a

brief inquisition of letters, I could put together a retelling of

your ongoing saga that’s wishfully half as good as your

magniloquence. Perhaps I could write.

Write about you. The boundless tale of the celestial

constellation of a lady.

I know for a fact how steely-cum-literary you are. And how

vociferous you are with your refined defenses of all things

debatable. How chiseled your view of the world – and love

for the arts – is. Layer upon layer of wisened silver coatings

on a soul that glows gold & gilded. If there were no limits

and constraints placed on the formation of a human being;

the resultant creation would be you. A fine-crafted lady of

compelling caricatures. A perfectionism of the human form

– and then some. A martyr upon the flames of academic

integrity, shepherding a steely resolve that’s one for the

storybooks; that’s one for folksy lyricism.

But as I stare down the barrel of a sabbatical gun - I can’t

possibly complain. It’s a painful wait, sure – it’s gushing

sharpness, sure – to be trapped in another dimension, far

from reaching out. But I couldn’t possibly fret when I have

front-row tickets to the saga of the century. The off-

Broadway preview night of a stageplay set in spectacle. The

trailer of greatness to be. A prowess no exam - no entrance -

could have the gall to certify. An intrinsic fervor of ferrous

tenacity. Powered persistence.

And it’s never about the exam results per se – but the face

behind that AIR – the face upon that admit card, that

beamed incandescent wave-after-wave of luminary carats

emitting conducive sparks of unyielding erudition.

Exemplary edges of an adroit creature. Edges that glowed

shades of splendorous wit. Grandiloquence unbounded.