The Golden Song

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2026-08-19 19:01:01 -

The Golden Song

The wind does not ask for permission. It strips the bark from the ancient oaks and carries the scent of wet earth into the hollow of your ear. You walk. The road is a ribbon of gray slate, worn smooth by centuries of feet that are now dust. You are not alone, yet you are. Your shadow stretches long and thin before you, a dark finger pointing toward the horizon where the sky bruises purple with...

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