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Ancestory
Behind the walls of thoughts there lyes, Something timeless, something wise. Within us all the prize of our past from father to son from the first to the last. And so full circle the image reappears to this second son born, the hazy mist clears. An echo swamped in youthful rage revealed once more with the coming of age. So forget ye' not the departed ones. For the souls they live on in the blood of the sons.
