<strong><span class="bbc_u">Zilior’s Dream</span><br/><br/>Resting lightly on a cloud high in the sky, Apollo strummed his lyre languidly. His hair shown like spun gold in the sun, pulled back with a band. His corded muscles rippled with every movement he made. He glanced languidly with sky blue eyes at Zilior, who also rested on a cloud. Apollo’s beauty took Zilior’s breath away and it was difficult not to avert his eyes, though tears threatened.<br/><br/>Apollo smiled softly and waved a golden tanned hand over the air in front of him. Clouds seemed to form a map slowly, floating together. With the map formed, Apollo sat upright, his hair glistening over his shoulder.<br/><br/>“Zilior,” his voice seemed to sing from his throat. “You are a travelling man. Well, while travelling, travel here,” Apollo pointed at a place on the map that began glistening as bright as the sun. “Redwood Forest in California.”<br/><br/>Apollo’s cloud moved closer to Zilior’s cloud and Apollo reached out a hand. He took Zilior’s hand in his own golden flawless one. He smelled of sun rays heating a warm summer’s day. Heat began in Zilior’s hand and travelled up his arm to warm the rest of his body.<br/><br/>“Zilior, I give you the gift of the sun,” Apollo stated. “Fire lies in the palm of your hand.”<br/><br/>Zilior could see a bright light of the sun appear over Apollo’s shoulder. The light got brighter and brighter until Zilior could see nothing but white. And the Apollo was gone, his handsome smiling face lingering in Zilior’s mind.<br/></strong><br/><br/><div align="center">(http://files.myopera.com/cjm5130/albums/469216/Fire%20Plasmid_low_res.jpg)</div>