Floating, spinning into infinity. Silver threads of moonlight gracing his face. A pure picture of masculine beauty. That never seems to fade till morning brightness over shadows. Vines of rapture twisting and turning. Living forms of ecstasy. Specks of dust shine like gold are as hard as diamonds. As form free as mercury. Slipping and sliding, running through my fingers like velvet. Thick and alive, like the first downfall of rain in a summers dream. Standing by the moonlight unseen. This pure picture of masculine beauty. All mine.