An eye's object of Affection

I suppose I live every moment knowing that I am composing the story of my life. And I hope that one day perhaps, what legacy I leave on this earth, whatever it may be, will be picked up as a novel off of some dusty shelf somewhere. And that person just may be the very same 8 yr old version of myself. A boy full of curious wonder at the world around him. Young & hopeful. A dreamer. Naïve enough to form beliefs of a higher ideal. And I pray that as that boy grows older & wiser to the world around him, that he never lets go of those ideas. No matter what the worlds’ cynicism would have of him. I’d impart this lesson; Telling him, and any who choose to listen, that yes, indeed the world needs more like your kind because the count is always such that an underdog story will always be preferred to one of a shameful fall from grace. And that alone is enough to allow one’s head to be held high. I am a man looking for his wife. By virtue of circumstance I've yet to meet her. Every decision I made to not find her was because I’d tell myself that the task at hand was more important for the future that I’d want for us. And though I’ve arrived, I find its shine no longer glimmering. It truly does require someone to share it with. It is the foil to my life that I am after. And she can be found by her intellect, wit, & ambition. Her charm, elegance, & sophistication. Her soft smile & eyes that look at me in doe. And her most radiant personality.. Inshallah.