It was a hard task it was his last task he dragged his Bergen behind him, scarred from war- bloodlessly wounded. chased by her- constantly hounded. he couldn't carry on anymore rain poured,dust fell his legs betrayed him, he fell, alas! on his knees and cried FLOWERS!- lady of the flowers. Fears overtook him,grief bound him drowned in his own salt,left for his own sort his nights were short, his days shorter moments were a breeze, nothing to hold close he prayed, he fasted- it stayed, it lasted wind,fire and ice- sticks and stones would break his bones the caterpillar burst, wings unfold- at last petals, from heaven. lady of the flowers. They were two-one-four or more countless shadows; then they were more-four-one and none. a glow of flowers- her eyes shone from a distance; they were lanterns. they made his nights bright, and his days brighter. the butterfly paradox,the juxtaposition, the Symbian. once again he smiled-...
