Henley

My dearest Hen,

A soul unlike any other,

Brimming with movement and electric colour,

Infinite Sapphires of potential behind her eyes, eagerly waiting to be worn and adorned,

Born under the constellation of Scorpius, and personifying its very mystique and ethereal stars And with a smile could make a blind man swear he just saw Aphrodite herself!

She glides across the dancefloor in a flurry of colour and trails of sparkly fabric.

Poised, precise and pristine, she moves as though she is constructing the blueprint of the cosmos itself! (Which she probably is.)

Sometimes she wears the sun on her ears, but it struggles to keep up with her inner glow.

For she radiates serenity,

Yet fire,

Peace,

Yet rebellion, And eternal wisdom,

Yet dumb humour in all its forms.

Her hands carry eons worth of grace and move as though painted by Da Vinci himself, like that of Persephone carefully peeling pomegranate. But they are capable of so much more.

They write! Producing rubious and full masterpieces, speeches that create multitudes of ‘and I-oop moments,’ they write!

They hug! Bursting with compassion, warmth and goodness, they hug!

They style! Weaving intricate braids like that of Nordic goddesses and ponytails that you swear could have only been crafted by Brad Mondo.

They swerve and swivel as she tells off whatever sexist prick just bothered her friend, ready to clap back with fire roasts,

They take pictures! Glorious frames of the Sacred Earth and her inhabitants, they capture beauty unable to be contained within words alone.

Henley’s hands are one of humanity’s most precious jewels. No cap.

But it is in her mind, and in her heart, where the raw and true essence of beauty lives. For she will sew you a face mask without ever being asked and stay back to help you on an odd question without you needing to mention it. She says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to all without missing a beat,

And actually means it.

Her ambition knows no limits, and nor should it, as there are no possible constraints on this planet that could limit her into a measly box.

And she’ll be stressed beyond all possible limits, paralysed under mountains of pressure, but you’ll never catch a pearl of sweat on her brow for she has decided that she will get where she needs to be through her very own hard work and merit. And keep her face free of wrinkles whilst she gets there.

‘A phenomenal woman!’ Maya Angelou would gasp if she ever saw her,

And Nicki Minaj would nod ‘Bad bitch!’ as she walked past,

For Hen captures the Divine Feminine Energy in all its forms

and then makes it her own.

My dearest Hen,

I cannot wait for all the chaotic road trips we’re destined to take,

The stars we have yet to gaze under together,

And the stupid adventures we have yet to experience and tell our kids all about.

To watch you conquer the world, and cheer you on from the stands as you do,

Is one of the greatest honours ever.

I always say that soulmates come as friends,

And wow, you are one divine soulmate.

Margaret Atwood would be so utterly proud of you.

I love you so much,

And thank you for making this planet so much more magical, full of good and filled with beauty unlike any other.

You’ve got this.