We sit there in silence for some moments after she leaves the stage. Some would say later after they leave the hall, that the woman had an ethereal beauty; others would disagree. Nevertheless, the simple fact of the matter is, the woman is beautiful. Except, her beauty is different from our natural concept of beauty. Her beauty is nothing that we can describe with words.... She looks to be barely older than twenty-one. Her hair and clothes, though no one can say they are out-of-date or un-stylish, are simple. All right, she has jeans and a fitted tee shirt on. A ponytail keeps her long black hair from falling across her face, though she constantly reached up to tuck a few errant strays behind her ear. She carries herself with a grace permeated with confidence. Her eyes perceive more than they let on. Behind their infinite black depth lies a wisdom few people possess. It is a wisdom that cannot be bought, learned, or gained. It doesn’t come with the slow passing of years in one’s life. It doesn’t come with experiences that accumulate with life. This wisdom that lay deep in her eyes, beyond all human understanding, compassion, sympathy or empathy, came from one simple thing: acceptance that she was loved, so therefore, she also could love.