Each thing in this universe, has a cycle by which it abides, hello, is this thing working, settings that can be enabled or disabled, echoes of eternity pass, negotiations and handshakes, life happened to bloom, the faery court took charge, built castles in the sky, created divine law, and said daddy, listen to me, I like it this way, honeyed peaches, what’s up her skirt, the wind blows, and the sun shines, why do the heavens bow their heads to appease a child, my blood running hot, quietus, do they seek stimulation of the mind, as a child grows, signals, the songs they pick up, and attune to, what they study for, and the sort of job they had to settle for, everlasting dreams, humping like bunnies, but infinitesimal, we never really touch, what sort of man can raise a child, someone who can’t hear the cries of a yearning soul…

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.