The Taj Mahal shows its beauty in white marble for anyone who cares to look. Four minarets guard the tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal, without whose love the Taj would never exist. When a rich man truly loves a woman, he will go to no material end to show that love to everyone. Shah Jahan commissioned the tomb, but made none of the sculpture, calligraphy, architecture, or any other art in this greatest romantic edifice.
Not everyone can afford white marble domes, and inlaid poems stretching into acres of poetry for the most special woman in the world. This is me: Shah Jahan left enough room in his symbol of love for the rest of us, too. I cannot make a White Taj for Sarah; I can only make a watery reflection that looks black at dusk. I will not measure my poetry for her in acres, but in lines, stanzas, cantos, and perhaps eventually, reams. I cannot keep Sarah's spirit beside me in stone; I can only write and love her for as long as she chooses to stay next to me and look into the Black Taj together. These are not the first words I've written to her, but these are the first words of my dusk reflection, the first public drop of water in a language we can both understand, and the first dedication of our Black Taj.