Men ask the way to Cold Mountain.
Cold Mountain: there's no through trail.
In summer, ice doesn't melt,
The rising sun blurs in swirling fog.
How did I make it?
My heart's not the same as yours.
If your heart was like mine
You'd get it and be right here.
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Stories by GhostOfDominicMoore
Meditations
Bring to me Exile, Ruin, or Death and I will gladly accept my fate. I have lived my life standing up for what...