“You…you are the gentle breeze that soothes my troubled mind. You are the golden thread that weaves beauty into my life. You are the lighthouse that…that…” he trails off, standing up, no longer on kneeling before you, “…I forgot,” the knight sighs, “how will I ever present this to her? It is hardly fitting.”

He, the most beautiful man to have walked the planets was always practiced his poems to you — you wished they were written for you, but you could never amount to his goddess’ beauty.