A city is raised on top of a mountain – not the tallest or greatest, but surely the one that is closest to the founder’s heart.
And love is found not inside its walls, but within the gates; the kind of love that keeps everything inside safe and makes its name and faceless place famous.
Heroes are born in the city, heroes that are both warriors and musicians because even while they fight, they sing of the truth of their beginnings and endings. They make music with the clashing of their swords and their trumpets that sound in victory. And even if it’s not beautiful or even right all the time (because heroes aren’t perfect either), they still choose to broadcast their stories, because as long as stories are being born, then life on earth will keep going on and on like the river that rushes to the sea.
The river carves its way into the ground so the earth never forgets, even if it can’t remember the sound water makes.