I am the poet of the Body;
And I am the poet of the Soul.
The pleasures of heaven are with me, and the pains of hell are with me;
The first I graft and increase upon myself --
the latter I translate into a new tongue.
The story I will be telling you is among the numerous fabrications of the human mind. It is of such absolute preposterous origins that sane men and women like yourselves and I could not hold with such nonsense. Indeed we would not! We have progressed and could well establish that fine line between reality and fiction; we do not believe in the claims of the dreamers and stargazers.
Upon the peak of Mountain Star he lived. His back was bent of old age and habit, for he had spent nights and days that eventually turned into a lifetime of labour meticulously searching through sands of the world, to find that occasional grain, that one dust in the wastes that he would keep, carry all the way to his home, nurture, love and then release. Continue reading →