My fantasies now dull,
I read non-fiction for spice-
Life told fantastic.
Painting by By Pieter Fris, 1650 (Sotheby's) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
It is only with calloused hands that the heavy body can claw and leverage the self upward on the thorny vine of a life without wince and whi...