I stole the chalice from the palace of the
living god. He was tall and bronze and handsome
too. But he couldn't have been all that - no God could
be that attractive. He'd need twelve hands to manage;
everything he started would always need finishing.
Maybe that's why we dream and have visions.
Doing His work again. I think this guy invented
Chess, and checkers too. Maybe even the game of
Life - maybe that one too. Oh then, should I call
him Milton Bradley, I mean, if we ever meet?