Nostalgia always brings with it a deep remorse for lost appreciation. Yet, the beauty of imprinted signs leaves aside the fallen heights of desire, and emboldens us to embrace our blood's calling once again.
Renewal aside, we remain the same and only sheath each brilliant sword with but a cloth of farce. And farce forgot, we remain allied alongside our shield.
It is in our advance that we clasp from behind, so that our future shall not forget. That is a must to accept; my sword cannot be left behind.
I am.
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