TASTE OF WITS II
On a voyage to world's end, we met a boy at the
Sahara pyramids cloaked in dusty rags of dearth
who unveiled to us several conundrums dating
back to medieval climes.
His wits were a breed of Socrates nous, an annex of
Solomon's connoisseur. We watched him dissect
enigmatic cadavers, exhuming secrets behind the
downfall of puissant kings, the slight trueness in
Delilah's love facade, the tint of folly in Ahitophel's
wit and several mercies hidden in Hitler's armageddon.
He was a prodigy, a dexter in his profession, illustrating with
grandiose gestures how sagacity was exorcised from brains
of ghosts martyred on stakes by a noxious disease during
the great plagues.
Lastly we were awed with a display of magic, the boy turned
snores of a voyager who had been bored by his lecture into
notes, f-majors, similar to sounds engines make after long
hours of work.
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