He was standing in an old road, rutted and ancient, that wound up a black hill towards the sky, where a great flock of black birds was gathering. The birds were like black letters against the grey of the sky. He thought that in a moment he would understand what the writing meant. The stones in the ancient road were symbols foretelling the travelers journey.
09 March 2009
One Blaze of Glory
Some sneer, some snigger, some simper; in the youth where we laughed, and sang. And they may end with a whimper But we will end with a bang. -G.K. Chesterton
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