My dearest, loveliest Teague,
My days at present are ill and black. A grim cloud o'erhangs my every thought, and sometimes I feel that my very mind has been sicklied over with evil and chaos. There is but one thought that awakens me to action each gray morning, and that thought is of you.
For when my ever-troubled mind rests on your beautious image, evil turns its back on me. The glimmering light of your complexion strikes sparks onto the eternal dark of the night. Once, your bright red hair was the magical flame that kindled my very soul, and now the brown that rests softly on your head soothes me, and brings me to an inner peace. Your full beard is a constant reminder of a bountiful harvest field, and your eyes hath in them more pulchritude than a million million stars.
O Teague, O Teague, from where did you come? Surely not from heaven, for the voices of every angel together in song surely could not match your beautiful vocal expression. And it is known that whenever your digits touch the keys of a piano, even the greatest composers tremble in their graves, ashamed and astonished to behold true art. "Oh god!" they cry, "Mine ears doth quake with this everlasting beauty! My abilities would fill a teacup as his overflow a hogshead! Oh lord, do strike mine ears from off my head before I am driven into madness by this overwhelming magnificence!"
But Teague, your image can only defend my mind from horror for so long. Every day is a struggle, a torture, a hardship. And you are the only force in the vast and monstrous cosmos that can uphold the small goodness in it. Teague, you are that small goodness. You are a tiny ray of light in an uncaring world. You are my only hope for a life beyond pain.
Teague, you are the only star worth wishing on when night falls.
Yours in love,
Doctor Submarine
Wow, that was actually a fun writing exercise. I highly recommend it.
Last edited by Doctor Submarine (2012-01-13 02:53:45)
"The Doctor is Submarining through our brains." --Teague