What can YOU say in six sentences?
Some believe the answer gathered on a stone that fell from the world.
They believe the answer was the atomic number of love, the face of creation painted on a rice grain, the perfect song swallowed by a rare bird.
Hope still lingers, gray clouds of incense sealed in red rooms, perfumed whores on antique couches, long-nailed hands shuffling Tarot cards.
Tired hope stares ahead, old eyes searching tea leaves in cracked porcelain cups, the mad quest for an acorn in every thimble of sawdust.
Questions softly hum in the Cistine Chapel, the sound of reaching, the whimper of ache between God and Adam.
Some pray for the stone to roll back from the dead.