Title: Dancing
By: Rayneshower

Pairing: Gil/Greg
Rating: G
Summary: A drabble inspired by the following quotation: "Dancing is silent poetry." - Simonides (556-468bc) From Gil's POV.

***

I wondered if he knows that his every movement is like perfection personified, music given breath. He claims to be human, but we all know he is above us, an angel among men, a masterpiece amongst children's scribblings, and it was obvious every time he so much as breathed, but when he danced...

Oh, when he danced.

He had no idea I was watching. In fact, he seemed blissfully unaware of everything but his own body and the music; both the notes everyone heard and the silent symphony within his own mind. At first he was conducting, a wave of the hand here, a wild gesture there. But then he started to sway and slowly moves into full on dance. And it is as if the world stops the moment he begins, all other things ceasing their movement in order to give this unnatural beauty all the attention it deserves. It starts slowly, the swaying of his hips, long limbs undulating ever so slightly, the gentle motion of his body as he works, and builds upon itself until he is dancing the most spectacular waltz without a partner and making it look as if that was how it was meant to be done.

He is a fallen angel, surely, for no mortal man could be so utterly and completely graceful, like a doe leaping through the forest or the wind whispering through the trees. Even I, a mere spectator, am affected by this unexpected gift of joy and simple radiance. I hear the softest whisper of words on the air and I know it is coming from him, because it too is perfect to come from anywhere else. Poetry in essence- his dancing steals the words from the pens of masters and gives them life.

And I am all too lucky to see.

***