Upon a hull of cedar, charred and blest,He launches toward the opalescent foam;A sea whereon no weary keel can rest,For here the liquid vapors find their home.The waves are not of brine, but amethyst,A churning slurry of dissolved desires,Where siren-tongues emerge from lilac mist,To sing of drowned and unextinguished fires.The compass spins in frantic, mad despair,The poles have lost their magnetic command;There is no scent of salt within the air,Only the perfume of a phantom land.He steers by intuition’s flickering spark,Across the glowing reaches of the dark.
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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