She was spectral,
Transcendent,
A member of an 
Undeserving dimension.

Beyond even
The dreams of us.

Us,
Bound to mortality,
To no promise
But that of death.




She was life.

She could instil in 
Those drawing breath
The sensation of
Being alive.

Show us that
What we had been doing
Until the point we met her
Hadn't been living at all.




She was art;

In that you could
Recognize her beauty
But never be able to 
Define it,
Never truly understand
The intricacies of
Her being.

Certainly not in words;
But to a poet 
That is in itself beautiful,
The attempt to portray

Something that 
No word sequence,
Symphony,
Or brush stroke

Could ever do justice.





She was infinite;

Boundless and 
Universal
In that she was everything.
Nothing needed exist 
Beyond her,
Any scenery paled behind her
To such an extent that
It ceased to be.




She was Celestial;

Not in that she belonged
To the heavens,
But in that they
Belonged to her.

She was the
Defining feature;
The required presence for
Heaven to be heaven at all.