Deep in the bowels of the City’s root,The Rebels navigate the jagged "Why,"To find the golden, uncorrupted fruit,That ripened long before the Archon's "I."They tread through aisles of heavy, dusty tropes,And bypass pits of hollow, empty praise,Clinging to their fraying, velvet ropes,Within the prehistoric, verbal maze.They seek the "Unabridged," the "Root of Roots,"The raw and unrefined, atomic spark,That bypasses the Tyrant’s cold pursuits,And glows within the center of the dark.At last, they find a chamber made of glass,Where eons of the ancient future pass.
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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