Randomness is an art form! The heroes lie on funeral pyres, awaiting a ritual severance by fire,. But none remain to scatter their ashes, no one to light the farewell fire. The stench of decaying flesh stills the sandalwood notes,. Over this lonely battlefield the heavens weep tears of fire. Crying is all that is left to do when virtue has departed,. Evil wreaks not its havoc in a blazing spectacle,. It lurks in the dark caverns of ignorant minds,.

Fridge magnets and crows, please. As always I am hoping for new names amongst our contributors; nevertheless if you have contributed in the past and think you can come up with something, I will not turn it away without good consideration. For some considerable time now, I have followed the blogs of Robin Malherbe. July is the month of Libe.