Trot among trots, among trots, among trots. The young creature, each time it saw him arrive, sacrificed itself and was drawn in by the magnitude of other, more precious things of being and existing. Sometimes, and only sometimes, it was clear that the murky aspect of the display of everything was the sequence with which its forms became present amidst the echo of the wit of the most precious voices. It felt the presence of its ancestors; if it was there, it was amidst the magnitude of the revelry of other moved adventurers.
From burning and being burned, awaiting all that could be grazed by him, with his golden eyes bearing the mark of dream walkers, always in the forever, he dared to be magnificent among the things that submit to what is and was most crucial. It was always the magnitude of the most concise things, crediting among what is and will be straightest, was and will be most precious.
But of all the wildest things, the creature prepared itself, each day, each afternoon, and each night, for the augury of its dignified magnitude of eternities of diamond castles; of emerald princesses. Of maidens who could not revel among themselves; it was always the eagerness of being great that made it locate the suburbs on the outskirts; beyond the candid stars.
Although he was a monster, although it was the most absolute resentment that made him a participant in the most terrifying consequences of his pact. Regarding the naivety of what, in the concentration of his accessibility; everything was right. Just; a tribute to the sword he carried in his arms and which he respected more than his own kind.
He opened the ivory doors of that palace of seashells; of that being of wheat, time zone, and taffeta; and that being who did not recognize the harsh power of the unwound, as if what lay beyond were the last thing he saw amidst the laughter; of his being of three hundred and forty-five words. Those were the only ones he knew; preached from page to page; with presses ink and the slant of tourmalines; and the conciseness of his coats; over insane majesties of times and cruises.
He wrote there to search; the concentrations of his familiar face. Always before the pact with other creatures; always to the pact of his own rectitude, magnificently precise.
