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Forest of October
This is where I make my stand
No deceit, I am a humble man
My ethical roots have slithered deep
So entrenched moss has crept up my feet
In my sole possession is a voice
How I use it is entirely my choice
The birds of the sun, owls of the night
Break the silence, bask in my delight
The gift of speech given to convey wisdom
the embodiment of pure freedom
In the forest of October, the poets are the flora
Serene melodies permeate their agora
