Gentle Death, Simple Life, What is Love to thee? Awful Grave, Wonderous Song, all have come to me. Who can sleep in earthen bed and swim among the stars? Who can know what's in his head? escape his story's bars? I walked along a desert path and drank from hidden streams; and under noon's voracious wrath, I stood the sun's relentless beams.
So, I just replaced the ink in my fountain pen, and I jotted this off.
Tale Told 