eminence and the psychic joy that comes with being a noble person, doing
world-class work and fulfilling a mighty purpose.
“I have another present to honor you two as we go off to your wedding!”
exclaimed the billionaire. “It’s a verse I memorized for my Vanessa.” He was
clutching her picture as he said this.
“Every Valentine’s Day, it was our tradition for me to present her with one
hundred and eight red roses, some terrific chocolates and one other thing over
dinner at our favorite restaurant. After that, I’d get down on a knee and recite
the poem.”
“What was ‘the other thing’?” asked the artist.
The billionaire looked a little embarrassed. His gaze fell to the floor of the
penthouse.
“Lingerie,” was his one-word answer, spoken with a wink.
He then stood up on the sprawling oak dining table that sat in one section
of the gigantic hotel suite. Like a child playing hide and go seek, he covered
each of his eyes with a hand. Next, he recited
an old poem by Spencer
Michael Free with thunderous passion:
’Tis the human touch in this world that counts,
The touch of your hand and mine,
Which means far more to the fainting heart
Than shelter and bread and wine.
For shelter is gone when the night is o’er,
And bread lasts only a day.
But the touch of the hand and the sound of the voice
Sing on in the soul always.
“That’s so beautiful,” said the artist, visibly moved.
It was growing clearer to Mr. Riley that though this bohemian painter had
rough edges, he had a soft heart. And though it might appear to an
uninformed onlooker that the artist was the more passive half of the romantic
couple, this was, in fact, untrue. The reality was
that the depth of his great
love for the entrepreneur overrode the immature needs of his ego. All his
kindness wasn’t to be confused with weakness. The artist was a powerful
man.
“I’ve written a poem myself,” the artist added. “It’s for you, my beloved.”
“Read it to me. Please,” said the entrepreneur gracefully as she fixed his
collar.
“Okay,” said the artist with a gulp. “It’s called ‘May We Never Say
Goodbye.’ And it goes like this:
MAY WE NEVER SAY GOODBYE
A chance encounter and that very first glance,
Your beauty moved me
And your strength calmed me.
Life’s unexpected windows of opportunity
Sent by a knowing intelligence
Asking us to do our part. By taking a risk.
Only those who dare will win.
Only those willing to face rejection will find their salvation.
Only those who reclaim their power will experience a
resurrection.
I’ve never known true love.
I’ve never believed in double rainbows.
Romantic walks and holding hands at sunrise.
I never imagined that first kiss would lead to this.
When you fall, I will support you.
Should you be scared, I will hold you.
When you are in doubt, I will stand by you.
When you enjoy success, I will raise my glass to you.
And when you feel like leaving, I won’t let you go.
I think of you constantly.
I feel you deep within me.
I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve you.
But my dream now is to grow old with you.
May we never say goodbye.
The artist went down on one knee and kissed
a hand of his soon-to-be
bride. She blushed vividly and was profoundly touched. One could then hear
loud crying.
The two students handed their mentor a tissue, so he could dry his eyes.
Chapter 16
The 5
AM
Club Embraces The Twin Cycles of
Elite Performance
“With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?”
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