Perfection
There is never any doubt of his presence when he enters a room. Without a word, a unified sense of euphoria warms the air, and from the moment he walks through the door until the moment he leaves, friends and strangers alike know that everything will be alright. His eyes, a deep blue, echo his calm persona. With a closer look, you can see the depiction of marks surrounding his pupils like a clock, as though to reflect time itself. His voice vibrates of reassurance, mirroring not Thoreau's, "quiet desperation", but Whitman's, "barbaric yawp".
He does not tower in bodily height, but in spirit he could look into the eyes of Caesar. Every step and subtle movement is deliberate, without pause or hesitation. His physical strength is enough to bring caution to any offense and is only surpassed by his mental strength. You will find no mystery in his motives, no flaws in his reasoning, for each is analyzed as you would a math problem. He does not allow his emotions to dictate his life, nor anything but himself for that matter. But when expressed, his emotions are true and meaningful without regret.
His generosity is unparalleled, offering an ear to listen and words of wisdom for those who ask. He does not claim to know everything, only what he has learned. And never has he claimed to be perfect, for that only comes from knowing everything. Faith in the integrity of others is what drives him, and he gains more pleasure in the success of others than himself.
If faith is what drives him, then music is the fuel. He picks up any instrument with ease, and creates poetry as if his life was one continuous melody. Every breath and heartbeat adds to the rhythm, each day a new stanza. As he walks back out the final door and the last of his warmth has left the room, I know his existence will be a testament to the goodness of all mankind, and his song will not be forgotten.
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