“I now find it to simple to speak for myself
What a hush in my world
Silence brings forth the mental pelf
Weary as a forgotten lover, to misery I am hurled”
The final words of the failing gypsy were carved into the stone hearth while the fire grew in tempers not yet dared by heat before. In silence his bride wept away the promise of her sanctuary and of their love forever more. For bread and for fear their ring was cast away into the blizzards hollow cause…they were without splendor for a lifetime. And in the shadows of boredom, life’s tedium revealed his many flaws.
“Away from me, and my dear no more!
Your hair has turned to snakes before me.
You are magic from a midnight, vile Paulo Fore
Wounded to delirium, you have been sentenced to your knee.”
Storms die slowly in the clutch of winters wilted embrace and as the fire became lonely, young Paulo lost his heart. Into the last pure flame he flung his snowy young wife, crying with laughter as the orange and red burned her down to reveal her blackest part. Inside the charred body was the void of poverty. And as the shack shrieked with the heat he died knowing joy as the only real novelty.