Spirit of Ecstasy

Were you to be less the chosen ideal, in solid form, my love would find a way; and yet, how to express a sentience pure enough if corporeal you graced the day. What befits such splendour, my life? Mere pittance I would gratefully dissolve, yet know, to feel your sex, a spoiling passion would taint the paragon beyond resolve. I am content to dream a spectral reality, therein dare to touch the rose, the luscious bud; suckle at the breast, consummate my animal, in sleep, set loose the singing in my blood. You will still remain untouched and undefiled by my primal debase, as you have ever been, immune of my advance amidst adulterate banes, inviolate...incomparable...pristine.