Conversation with the Anariarch's Toad
I see things, I hear things. Many are the tales told in my little garden, and all of them concise and to the point. Of this one I hear tales of beauty, and love immortal. She speaks to me of ladies, fair and bold. Of men of valor, and more upright honor. To beauty and to wit, it falls more so on the eye, of those possessed and those observing. As only a man, I can only remark of the woman called maidens. Of men I take no part, as they are my betters. To her I now call and attempt to describe, their madness and splendor, all of which I take part. She moves as smoke in the wind, guiding and moving gently about, in a soft autumn morning. A sense, a flutter, of tender wings that speak truths, wisdom, and gives stories that even I find myself lost in incense. We smoke, we drink, we partake of each others wordy company. Outside we are, in broad daylight, seen conversing and speaking in many a tongue. Her beauty I know not challenged, for as all men, there are greater woman. But one such as me, there is none other than her. They may be taller, they may be slender, but she is the one that guides my able hand. With words I do partake, and a simple glance is all I offer. To her mind I now guide, save us all the battle to the strong. I speaks, she speaks; talk is cheap to those passing by. Yet immersed I am, in our delight conversation, of common tales and modern events. Globing from the mundane to the profound, we talk and verse, with verb and mesh. She dresses as people, and I do my best. Only she can befuddle my mind, for beauty oft comes with the curse of ignorance; and ignorant we are not. Eloquent is such a lesser term for us, as one. United in battle of words, and now we retire. To our humble abode, to seek once again, a modern field. In which to let loose our desires, on the air, and on the sea. To battle we are called, and in battle we shall find each other. Let loose our fury.