Gafyn Davies

Born once in a valley, twice on a hill. Spent free nights on a mountain with four winds blowing. Five visions came in a dream, six times 'til the seventh day, he ate, but who's counting, nine tenants. The next day, whilst sitting on the promenade, a minstrel carrying a preposition, a clown with a note and a key, and ball of fire wearing a verb, taught him the value of pulse. That night they danced on the cliff between a burning king and a chariotted silver queen, twirling the stars with the neck of a broken guitar.