5 thoughts on “

  1. The mind runs a marathon; each and every day,
    Puzzling through riddles,
    And scraps of memories,
    Thought lost long ago.
    Until the memories are gone and naught remains but to begin anew;
    Build some more, and think of glory to come and of halls to feast me when I am gone;
    Brother to the ski lady, son of the Hidden King of Russia of Russia, and source of all that is human to know…

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