His is a soul tormented;

A young elven lord--

His true nature and identity lie concealed

under the mantle of pretense and delusion.

His blood burns for the joy and the ecstacy of sweet relief to come.

The young elf closes his warm brown eyes and reclines back

on the grassy carpeted hill;

his open shirt working itself free of his muscled torso

to buffer him against the jade colored grass.

The brassy orb of the sun burns from the heavens with the light

and the life energy of the gods themselves.

Rays of sunlight, like molten gold, spill from around the mountain of silver lined clouds to dance;

to dance and trickle down to the earth on which the young elf lies.

His chest rises and falls as the waves of the sapphire blue seas

in time with his deep and luscious breaths.

Skies of deepest azure spread out far above him,

whilst around him the beauty of undaunted nature

beckons to him.

He feels the burning of his blood.

He hears the call he cannot deny.

The elflord stands and his long platinum hair spills luxuriously

past his shoulders and burns with the light of a thousand suns.

His pulse quickens.

His heart beats faster--

in time to the beating hooves of galloping stallions who

mark their path across the plains.

The young elf can bear it no more;

He strips off the last remaining vestiges of his clothing

as his hard muscled body drinks in the sun.

The young elflord begins to transform and to change.

His splendid nude body undulates as it grows and enlongates.

Great Platinum wings sprout from his back as fingers and toes

become great and mighty talons.

Soon he stands, alone.

A great platinum dragon overlooking the scene before him.

Pushing with his great hind legs,

he lifts himself on molten silver-like wings into the air.

His cry is the cry of one set free.

This is The Flight of the Platinum Dragon.

He soars and swoops resounding again and again his mounting

freedom cry.

His heart--it aches for pure joy--if it could only last!

In anguish, he swoops down onto the awaiting plain.

He releases a blast of hell-fire as silver tears gleam

on his face.

Yet at the same time--

the fire-it cleanses-it purifies and for a moment

his soul is relieved.

The young dragon once again settles back to the earth--back

to the now dew-drenched grass as now again in elven form

the young lord allows the ground to claim

his naked body as sweet sleep and rest

claims his troubled soul.

Sleep well, sweet prince.