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Roylsden #84

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I do know her.
She has seen inside my heart once before, but then I was too young to understand what I glimpsed in her heart.
Now, I am older.
Now I understand that what I see around me, the mist and the grey and the nothing, is the sorrow of her loss. Her lost people, her lost lands.
I wonder why, I wonder how she still smiles as my tears fall for her
She bids me "Cry not for my loss. Nobody loses anything. All we own is our thoughts: the rest we borrow, the rest we must return."

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