I've always pride of myself on my ability to turn a phrase. Words are, in my not so humble opinion, are most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of inflicting injury and remedies.
The second poet raised his head and said, "With my inner ear I can hear those mist-birds singing. And the melody holds my heart as the white rose imprisons the bee within her petals."
The second poet raised his head and said, "With my inner ear I can hear those mist-birds singing. And the melody holds my heart as the white rose imprisons the bee within her petals."