He weaves a vascular, vermilion net,To trap the pulse within the hollow chest,A rhythmic, red, and resolute regret,To animate the long and lonely rest.With capillaries spun from spider-silk,And valves of valve-less, vitreous desire,He feeds the infant world on obsidian milk,And tempers every bone in liquid fire.The architecture of the living frame,Is drafted in a script of blood and bone,To give the nameless clay a holy name,And make the silent marble moan and groan.The centrifuge of life begins to spin,As consciousness is poured beneath the skin.
MICRO FINANCE unknown to many is the sole panacea to mass poverty eradication in human society.The blog specifically focuses on the industry around the world but with more bias on Africa-unarguably the poorest region of the world.
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