He whose touch is as soft as thistle down that has been separated from its thorns. He whose voice is like the breath of wind that travels through the trees. He who knows the number of petals on every flower of the field. He who knows mathematics like the counting of stars in the night skies. He whose truth is like a lightening bolt breaking an old tree. He whose thrust is like a wave ponding the shore. He whose strength rise like the high mountains. He whose brilliance is like the sunshine that parts the clouds. Dedicated to my husband Matt.
