Float like one but sting like a bee said famous boxer Muhammad Ali.

In deserts vast, a stone giant stands, with layers rising from the sands. A timeless tomb with angles keen, housing secrets yet unseen.

Nestled in valleys, Whispers of life tell stories, Cobblestones echo.

Glazed with grandeur, a graceful grip, Gleaming at feasts, grandly sipped. Grander materials and precious stones, Quite refined in the hands of earls. Savoring swirls of wine and mead, Holding histories and cradling creeds. Nowadays, it glitters at the altar, Drink too much from the depths and you may falter.

I saw him for the first time, at First Sunday after Easter, he was a little garcon, soon tasked with tucking my ropes, he was deaf and all alone, and through him, I called people into my home.