. .

"Poppycock, for lone in the ears; Have no longer say.

Listen for his words, low and stray.

Whom they have spoken, for of libel."

"Men of all, both young and grey. No more have a say, for longer are the defamer.

Token upon on this day, no more found but none more lay. For if you ask even the children, no one more will say. A man so loved and held dear, a divine soul all loves to hear. "

That is, what they all say.

"Fret no more, have your tea."

Even of those in poverty, only one thing had been held so dear; Morium.

What had such a man done, to be held as a god among men? Truely, for those thoughts were all but what they had wanted to think. Perhaps, even the dimmest souls knew of such questions. Who is Morium? "Indeed, he is Morium." What is Morium? "He is but Morium." Why do we praise Morium? "We praise him, for he is him; for he is Morium.".

In this manner had all concerns been addressed. Hadn't anyone but trust Morium? Yes indeed, he was trustworthy. All the talk of any for the man, even of those held down in the lofts of old inns, they could all agree. Necessity had replaced the unnecessary, for no purpose was there of asking such prudent questions. "Had he gone insane?" Was the first question one of any reasonable man would ask.

Why spend such energy, these men of Heaven have only but little time to spare; the minimal of what is left after their day. To use such on arbitrary questions would only be waste.

To question himself, one would only waste such energy of his own. Either to question another or to Morium himself, he would waste not just the time of his own, but of others as well. Such wasted time of others would only tear down what little patience those of Heaven have, something of which is rightfully a currency of its own; one of which perchance, more valuable than time. 

So many, the greater more than the few, have no such time to worry for others; not to worry even for the Angels.

Yet, the many, all have no less than worry for Morium. 

For all know he is not a man who face woe, yet even so, it is of obligation that they feel due. For a man who have faced all known of him; to not worry would only be a show of one's impiety.

It is a stern; even unwavering belief that is to be had in the stories of the man. Some simply of paper, some of the softly spoken words of one's mother.

Though they shall know that these stories may be but unadulterated, they do have a certainty of which the glory has been said from. They all know for the man have even made the very currency of which they sweat for each day, Marium's.

For Heaven is an orderly society, all assuming a role as requested, or chosen of thee. Each shoemaker to the man who keeps the bar in which Morium currently stays; for them it is known that it is all well.

Each man, each woman, and each child. They all but have wings, though even such too, is well.

No, it is only the Angels that possess such. For the commoners, the ones known as the flock, they have no more than a halo.

Such is an honor, to possess wings. Such too is an honor to possess a halo, an honor which all citizens of Heaven have.

For a halo is an honor of simply being in Heaven, wings are an honor only given to those chosen by the Judges of Heaven. Morium was one such man of a time long before the modern Heaven, where wings had only been possessed by the Judges themselves. The idea of one who is not a Judge possessing wings had been but a dream. 

It is said that the very spark of the modern Heaven had been when Morium was given his wings. Though no man could ever confirm or deny such except for Morium himself. 

Of all the things to be said about Morium, very few should ever be understood as true. For not the wise men or the historians even have a word for the truth regarding the legends and epics of Morium.

Such is indeed seen to be no less than confusing, as Morium himself is still around. Rather nomadic, he travels around, visiting various tourist spots and taverns. So many have seen the man himself, as any who frequent any bar shall eventually see the man, yet, even of all the men who seen him, none have record of even a single word being spoken. Many men wish to question and inquire on the man, yet none dare to interrupt.

For of all the weirdest in Heaven, none such could be said more than of than Morium's actions. 

Much time of his is spent in social spots yet partakes in no conversations or affairs. Any man who has seen one order of his has seen them all. One beer and a water.

No more can be inquired on his strange habits than of his strange order. Many of even the wisest in Heaven have but no idea of what to interpret from his behaviors.

Of many accounts, one has seen of him not even touch the beer or the water, rather, they recall him only sitting there staring into the mug in front of him.

In another, only the beer. 

In one other, only the water.

Yet the man is consistent in only but one regard. For no matter what he did or didn't consume, all can testify to the man simply sitting. Without expression, sometimes his eyes open, other times not. This strange behavior has been observed to go on for hours, yet despite how often Morium does such strange things, he has never even once been seen looking into the eyes of anyone. Even the very bartenders who pour his drink don't get even a single glance.

Morium only simply orders, pays, and leaves.

What such a highly thought of man could be doing in the hours he spends in such thought could only be of speculation. Of all the tales of Morium, none have mentioned even the slightest of the man's thought process, morals, or personality. 

Some seem to think that such is on purpose, that Morium simply wants none to know of his thoughts or identity. Others think that we simply have never had care, rather focusing on his accomplishments over persona. 

So many in Heaven have gone to great lengths to attempt to achieve such a status that Morium has, yet the very man many men strive to be, merely hops from bar to bar, event to event not saying of doing hardly anything. Outside of bars and social events, few have even seen the man.

For Heaven may be a strange place, but none stranger than Morium.