Smoke Signals

Ask what the sage would see with eyes that see right through me to gaze at a twinkling star and that faraway look could write pages, a book that would be read for centuries to come. The wise men who eye men to weigh up their worth the harlots who scream at their birth, who measures the value chooses the currency. He stood proud among the wildness his wife childless through choice. Contemporaneous notes could tell me my medical history but Latin is a mystery and I remain ignorant.