Of Men and Metaphors

There are no descriptors          
I could compare thee to:          
no metaphor or simile            
         
Some see you as shade—           
  mountainous movement          
  of shifting personality;          
a constant, ever-changeling state          
  canvasing darkness from light          
         
Others pine for your passion          
to entwine with their own—  
a dreamscape:            
  granting childhood wishes truth;          
  a verification real intimacy exists          
         
I see no comparison befitting          
the caliber of a man's heart          
         
It would only be a fraction          
of your life, should I write          
  “You are like a Rothschild’s Orchid;          
    the rarest in the world."          
         
Because orchids are not strong, nor warm;  
but, possess a coldness to the touch            
         
Their beauty does not swathe the stars    
  nor fold first-light with their arms.          
I shall not wake encased by soft petals    
  of pink and purple, nor be quenched    
  under white and yellow-ringed crest    
   
There is no metaphor    
  which grants you justice;    
  there is only this truth:    
   
You walk proudly, a man aware    
  of his worth despite circumstance;    
you eschew temptation for loyalty—     
  vehemently defending what you love    
   
Tell me, my Dearest Darling—     
  what more is there to want   
  in this miniscule Universe of Us          
~