As the baby live not without milk
So poetry shrink without muse.
Seven suns, seven moons, seven gods
Seven days make one world
Let’s play milk or muse
muse for me, milk for you.
For the world is too complex
For a pen to drop dead.
If magical poetry will build a tower
we will enchant the chanting muse
then sorcerers will rise aloft earth
to shower splashes of ranting milk
The day is bringing it’s happenings
when poetry will spell to kindle magics
Bless the bearers of plummy breasts
and the climbers of poetry crests
for long live the heart that is milked
immortal is the soul that is mused
As the breast feeders keeps more birth
So muse diggers gives more life.
Dig your muse and let’s write!!!