I think it's in his eyes. . .
The piercing deep pools of mystery
Some find insanity, I find tranquility.

Or maybe in his smile. . .
When the mystery eludes it's self
His walls come down and you see him clearly.

I've found it in his voice.
Sweet, deep and smooth.
Like the taste of prefectly aged wine.
It washes over you.

I see it in his thoughts. . .
For his mind is his greatest weapon.
Speaking words of wisdom that send me
reeling in his meanings.

Or maybe in his features. . .
The perfectly sculpted lines of his face
As if perfected by none other than the
Gods themselves.

Others have seen it in his walk.
Smooth like the feel of satin on your skin
And confident enough to leave you staring.

Speechless.

Regardless of the physicality
You see.
I find individuality
That shines through his creativity.

His presence washes over me
Like ocean waves massage
The sand on a warm summers day.
I bask in it drunkenly.

Finding peace in his mystery
and passion in his artistry.

See, where those find fear I see actuality
And I know all that he can be.
Mentally and physically.

I immerse myself in the hope he brings to me.