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.
12 October 2009
The full text with no horror tunnel
We are the music makers, And we are the dreamer of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; ' World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems. Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy
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