Mothflour

“After a few steps in the darkness you will see strangers gathered around a fire; come close, and listen, for they are talking of the destiny they will mete out to your trading centers and to the hired soldiers who defend them.  They will see you, perhaps, but they will go on talking among themselves, without even lowering their voices.  This indifference strikes home; their fathers, shadowy creatures, your creatures, were but dead souls; you it was who allowed them glimpses of light, to you only did they dare speak, and you did not bother to reply to such zombies.  Their sons ignore you; a fire warms them and sheds light around them, and you have not lit it.  Now, at a respectful distance, it is you who will feel furtive, nightbound, and perished with cold.  Turn and turn about; in these shadows from whence a new dawn will break…

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