![]() Blood is such a vessel that never dries up, carries memories of the past and reminds us today that we are the product of their love and sacrifice. One life of an ancient equals to many of us today, wars fought and blood spilt willingly to safeguard and protect the ancient rites, heritage and culture from the invading, selfish, evil forces of the world. A mere thought of the ancients would awake centuries of unforgotten and lost memories of your own identity and origins that initiated eons ago and reminds the perpetuation of an ancient, endless bloodline. Blood being a channel that carries ancient wisdom, practices, skills, and indescribable amount of power which speaks to me in my worst moments of despair, weakness, broken spirit. ![]() Walking tall as they go about the city with an attire of the Kings, charisma of the most pious priests, manners and etiquettes of a well-read person, strength of a lion, conviction of a spiritual warrior, knowledge and wisdom of a scholar, a bright smile of an optimist. Snowy mountains to the North covering a vast area of land, being amassed with immeasurable quantities of snow with sharp icy shards glitter brightly to the dawning sun, leafless tall tress bending and touching with another tree appearing as kissing each other, wolves howling as they encircle the land as marking their territory, land, trees and mountains reminiscing the glory of the ancients who once inhabited with glory and brought honour to their kin and Gods alike. The once mighty people who reigned over the fertile, picturesque, woody lands surrounded by majestic mountains with shiny lustre and sharp slope of death.
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