Death is the king of this world: 'Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.
With several different kinds of poetry to choose from, a man would decide that he would like best to be an epic poet, and he would set out, in conscious determination, on an epic poem.
I see myself as a bit of a traveller. I am a workaholic.
For un-subscribe please check the mail footer.