The stars, those punctate bursts of phototaxis,Began to stutter in their celestial groove;The universe, a victim of its own axis,Refused, in its grand redundancy, to move.The king attempted a final, desperate gloss,A commentary on the void’s own margin;But meaning was an irredeemable loss,A vessel too heavy for the soul to barge in.He was the arch-priest of the pleonasm,The sultan of the tautological throne;Falling forever through the yawning chasmOf a language that had turned to petrified bone.His scream was a cluster of vowels and spit,With no consonant left to anchor it.
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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