Oh dear precious,
How precious you are and beauty that consists within thee.
Just like a stamp, pressed hard to a piece of paper, leaving the marks identical mirror image, such as you, a mirror image of me.
You are the exact beauty I imaged you. I was full of joy, pleasure and contentment as I constructed you.
There is nothing more perfect than how I imagined it.
Syllables cased out, arranged together forming words, those words causing nothing to become something. Or should I say all things, just as I imaged them.
As I said them, they had a mission that could not fail them.
That they concerned... it was Creation.