the lost man chronicles
the daily chronicle
There is a gold tree upon the corner of the street where I love; it stands magnificently amidst the avenue that is otherwise barren.
Today it glowed—glimmering athrust the manifest of dawn, its leaves shimmering, almost imperceptibly, against the aureate horizon.
As I sauntered toward my destiny the glorious sun rising smiled at me, and my soul was suddenly endowed with enough wanton vim and energy to begin the day.
And I thought, rather feyly, “And what a golden one it will be.”
in the beginning .00 daily archives