I don't know you.
You might have blue eyes, or brown, or hazel or black. You might have long hair, or short, or curly. Maybe you laugh so much that you cry;
I don't know... yet.

But I do know that someday, we will meet. Our eyes see each other, your hand will touch mine, the breath from our lips will swirl about us like a wind. We will be locked for a moment, for an hour, for a day, for a month. There will be you and me and us.
But please promise me, Darling. This, just this.

I sat the other day, with my backs to some children. Children, the same age as I, but still ignorant like a child. They talked and they laughed of putting themselves together; crudely, rudely, forcing false love.
They spoke with their tongues out, choking and choking without knowing.

So promise me, my Love, even though you know me not, nor that I write this in earnest to you,
Promise me...
That you will wait for me, only me.

Please, I beg you, even after we meet, you will wait until we join before God, and then we can joyfully unite.
But only then.
My Darling, my Love, my Joy of the future,
Wait for me as I wait for you.