The Tale of Mouse

In the jungle , the deepest jungle , the mice come out at night. The tall grass hides them as the moon illuminates but just enough ,the sounds of owl ,a howling thought . They travel on with movement graced by guidance of the Blasphemouse and keep on path by his command – take over earth .

Nature his love but she carries hurt , her comfort thirsts in all his worth
-the gust of blows-
-the burn of fury-
-stubborn nature , smell of dirt-
It Watered down the purest form.

We live in a place where the sun does shine , where vineyards bare butt sweetest wine. Penguins fly and ants elope . It does smell a bit butt it smells like home .