It’s a cross that I must bear. The weight of which could sink a ship. The piece had eaten deep into the fabrics of my life and things are no longer the same. Marking the time, the desert foxes are ever hungry. The city hustlers barely had enough. No one is safe. The hammer falls and the fly dies. The bell rings and the old crone storms out of sleep. You can bruise her petals, eat her fruits but never take a loyal friend for a fool. On a bright Friday morning, I woke up with a start. The cockerel had sounded it was dawn. The rising sun was upon humanity, inflicting pain on some and sending healing on others. The sun slowly crawled out of her abode and walked majestically to her esteemed seat somewhere on the plains of the beautiful earth. Singing from the horizon, her voice could be heard around the country. Men speak of her legendary. Men worship the rising sun. Her eminence, her clemency were up in the air. She revealed herself as soon as the moon drifted home to her hol...
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