H.E.

He is an art ... a drawing, a poem, a sculpture. A design made of a celestial pattern by the hands of divine deity. His thin wrist and arms are morphing into wings of the wind. The smile he stretches on his cheeks holds secret keys to decipher hundreds of codes of happiness. His brain is a mass of infinite treasures where gold and diamonds are as useless as ashes of burnt woods. Beneath the iris of his eyes sparks the cluster of thousands of stars. The skin he wraps around his body can't hold the rebellions spirit that roams inside his hallow tunnels.

People on the streets grumble about his misdemeanors yet they don't know that he is a demigod, an angel of happiness, a messiah for a worn out love, an inspiration for a middle-aged poet. A child intoxicated with the wine of childhood.