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I slumber throught my years, like the desert moves with the wind. Frozen and flickering, the lustful year has met its end. A wanderer I am indeed... ...the son of the moon... and I will carry mountains soon.A burden I was for those who woke the sun. I threw their masks away, lit my torches and burned their eyes.Forgiven I never was.But I will carry mountains soon. A burden, is it not?Kneeling I chose my faith, while they lit the sun, and flew naked and blind over my desert fields.