Standing barefoot at the gate to the great
lighthouse, his long hair cascading in
braided dreads almost to his waiste, he did not
identify himself as Ptolemy XV Caesar, Pharaoh,
Lord of the Two Lands, and King of Kings---the
ostentatious titles the world now ascribed to
him; but only as barefoot Kaisarion, the beautiful
young man who, having invited you back to his suite in
his mother's palace, now stands before you entirely
naked, entirely engorged (as, pleasurably, you are,
yourself) and draws on to his legs and street-grimed
feet a pair of sheer, yellow stockings---cut from pure
Koan silk---utterly translucent except for the soft
opacities, doubly woven to ensheathe his heels and toes.
Thus adorned, he offers you the intimacies of his body,
unto the expression of Love, according to his nature.
Starward-Led