My flesh absorbs the toil of epochs. I am the sanguine tread of ages. Quietly ancient, the turmoil and bloodshed of long fallen citadels is ferment to a plaintive ode. My sediment is pliant and IANS, more patient than minds might conceive. My soul moist and vibrant. A verdant soil that mounts to rise the onslaught of elements I grieve in cavernous gorges. This cast carries rivers. My heart is a furnace deep below mantle