Caves

There were so many, they hung their heads as if in shame and swayed, unnoticed buoyed by the staleness of belated centuries and, by and by they dripped onto the rocky grounds their semen as if it could renew this world, its breath and, as the devil watched, the thorn of stalagtite slipped with a tiny cry into the petal gate, so moist of what has been described by Gods and man alike as stalagmites, those givers of the ambience of caves and of its secret womb. It was the taste of love the force that does perpetuate the beat of each small heart which, in its own noblesse, surprises even Gods.