Style. The hair matches the dress. Fire. The eyes light the skies. Warmth. The love fills your heart. And, she’s happy. You can tell. It may have nothing to do with you, and that’s more than okay! You’re filled when she is happy. It’s the moments you understand what angels must feel. She’s turned the thermostat up to one hundred today, but the warmth enveloping you is from your heart. You love when she soars. She’s regal. She’s royalty. You laugh a warm laugh for no reason! You don’t know why. Just something angels must have whispered. Then the silliness comes to you. Just from looking for her at the top of the hour and finding you’re a minute behind. You see her as the breathtaking Queen ruling kingdoms. Her beauty! The Queen has everything, of course, but perhaps on occasion She feels something is missing. Yet, She can’t quite put her regal finger on it! Hmmmmmm … It is right then that news arrives! *Loud Knock on BIG Door!* “Your Majesty! I bring news!” … She hears of this peasant – well, not quite a peasant. He owns a couple of village forts, and a high-rise duplex (two rocks!) in the tony section of Stonehenge. But, he’s certainly no shipping magnate or royalty. But, alas! It’s known he pines endlessly for the Queen! It is said his admiration knows no bounds! For they have not even invented words that could capture all his feeling (there were fewer words back then). But even a million words are not enough! It’s learned he spends his freest moments writing sonnets – pouring out his adoration for Her. And then he posts them on Her Majesty’s Media of the Social (an advanced pigeon-carrying technology on the all-new 1G network – that’s “one goose,” and that’s when the goose is in the mood to deliver the letters to the townsfolk)! … “Well, that’s a neat trick,” The Queen thinks. So, this peasant is summoned to the castle. And he is offered a pittance to perform this High Duty for the Queen, all for those rare times she muses for a muse! But, he refuses the pittance! *What?!* Does he dare offend? Why?! … Why? Because this is his bliss! His Dream Job!! So, he says, “YES!” and requests any pittance is donated to the Queen’s Trust. And, alas, here he is! *I’m on top, boy!* YES!!! Spending his days atop a high turret! With long feathery pen! Allowing it to all furiously pour from him! All his love, his admiration. For Her. It’s easy work because it’s work he feels made to do! And, if it’s a day where it might not be flowing, he doesn’t lose his head over it. Which is a relief, because “Off with his head!” is a common utterance around these parts! But, he’s still got his head about him! He feels carried by Her. He’s somehow safe from it all! Because maybe – oh, just maybe-maybe-maybe!!! – he holds a special little compartment in Her heart. Even if it’s the littlest of the little of the even littler. So little in fact a bullying hoodlum atom rolls over, takes a long cool puff from its cigar while giving the look-over, and says, “I could take you, you know.” … Well, after a long day where many heads have rolled, the Queen casts a bored, tired yawn at it all. Tired of all the important men in their puffy pants and sheer stockings and lovely wigs. Tired of Her usual admirers. “Is that all there is?” She asks. There’s got to be something more. Then, a glimmer! Oh, those eyes of Hers!! “Bring me My subject!” she exclaims, and the ground moves, shakes! “Show Me the Duke of the Queenly Muses!” Here it is!! Oh, he lives for this part! He enters, and, Oh! … There She Is!! That face! Those eyes! That bearing! And he immediately gets that panic-all-over feeling! That wonderful discomfort. That nothing-is-fitting-right feeling, so that even his stockings are bunching up (isn’t that the worst?!). That horrible-WONDERFUL feeling! His throat is parched, but through the ethereal fog of Her presence he must proceed. It’s Showtime! Bowing before Her, he humbly unrolls his scroll. “Your Majesty, today I have concentrated all thought upon Your eyes. When I ache to see them look upon me, I turn my own eyes to the blue of the heavens, and to all the stars in the sky. And yet, even all the wonder and mystery to be found there is a pale comparison to that which I find in Her Majesty’s eyes – here before me,” he says. … She waves her fan in a nonplussed way. You never know if you’re getting through. It’s hard to tell with Her. She keeps Her fan close to the vest. … “I pray it is to Your liking.” And he proceeds. And, he is in his Heaven! Pouring out his love for Her! “The kingdom of Heaven is spread upon the Earth, but man does not see it.” But he sees it. Right here! In Her! In Her eyes! It’s not to be found in some place far away. It’s to be found in “Love thy neighbor.” And – oh! – in that most magical kind of all! When you find it in that meeting of the eyes for another from the heart! You’re really seeing heaven then! Two different worlds, social status. But, the heart doesn’t see any such things. In those moments a Queen and a humble servant are simply two hearts, eyes meeting. That Look! That smile that may or may not ever be for you and the sevens turn to fours and the fours to twos on the scroll beneath her face. Sevens for Divine! Fours for Angels! Twos for the Love Between Two! And those Ones all lining up – New Beginnings! Well, you can dream, can’t you?? You take such stock in Her ticker! The numbers turn to magic on the scrolls when she appears! And on your scroll are all your impassioned scribbles. Her eyes. Her smile. They work in concert to create landscapes, always morphing, changing. When she smiles above the scroll you feel yourself disappearing. You’re self-less. Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes! They communicate! They speak the most beautiful words ever heard. I wonder if my longing green ones ever speak to her. If only in a moment! Do they look sad to her? Hope-filled? Tired? Longing? Old soul? New? Can she see the love in my eyes for her? Does she experience it, seeing the truth of it simply by looking in them? If she were to look in them? Is this not more powerful than mere words? If she were not betrothed would she, could she, feel *anything* for me? Maybe there are secret moments when I, the Subject of the Queenly Muses, is nervously but determinedly reciting my heartfelt words for Her that she gives the look over? Maybe a “Well, he still moves around pretty good, although he might be getting a little long in the tooth. But, my gosh, he still *has* teeth.” (Teeth were a big commodity back then.) Could she ever think of me as cute when the light from the torches shine a certain way? Could she ever find me *endearing?* For whatever reason that word – *endearing* – seems the last choice on the pile of words written on cards placed in a hat – cards reading “love,” “lover,” “soul mate,” et cetera. If all in the line of handsome young suitors got to pick a card that had a word on it that would represent how She would feel for them – words like “sexy,” “powerful,” etc., well, by the time I finally got to the hat all that would be left is one little card nobody wanted. The one labelled “Endearing.” “Who wants that one??” the men would say, snickering. But, now I stand alone at the end of the line, eyeing the lonely sole card left at the bottom of the hat with the word “Endearing” written upon it. … And, you know? I kind of like it. It’s a warm word. It’s kind. It deserves a loving home. It needs a friend. The lonely last word nobody picked. I wrap it in my hand gently. It’s the one I hold. And, I like the word. The chance at it. Endearing. It has “dear” in it. And “ring.” *Sigh!* … But, it also has “end.” I’d so much rather always be her musing subject – endearing, than to be the one allowed to taste the flames, only to have it be a short-lived fire. Endearing might have fewer obvious benefits, but it has less obvious ones that are greater. It could last longer. Time is the goal for you, not her space. You’d rather muse from afar – and be granted such permission – than to be inches from her spectacular face. So close that you can taste the wonderful inhalations in the air! Her hair! Her breath! And, to whisper softly in her ear! “Ear” is in this word, too! “Endearing” has a lot going for it after all! If far too late to pick from the other, bigger, words, I’d be thrilled to the core to get that word. Endearing. The thought she could ever find me endearing to Her heart. But, maybe, … even kind, unassuming “endearing” slips from your hand. And, it’s empty. And, that’s okay, too. Because your heart is full. You’re living a dream! You’re in your bliss. You get to tell the world about the most beautiful woman living in it. That fills you. It really does! It’s nothing to lose your head over. And, a lot of people are losing their heads around these parts! You’ve got your head on straight. And your heart in a wonderful place. And she centers you. Just the sight of her. The thought of her. It’s enough. It’s everything! And, in moments, when you’re deep in that special place of just feeling the love for God’s magical creations on Earth, and expressing it, you indeed feel a king. And maybe from time to time she notices, and just smiles at it all. It’s an endearing thought.❤️