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Ivan The Lore Keeper

He is the true bard. The only kind, from all of the kindest birds. He is the one who shall always be remembered. As the guardian of the chirps, the hums, the strums, and the stories. Told and sung. Silences and aloud.

He speaks love. As he is loved. For his soul transcends worlds. And rest between words. He is in the stories you told. When your heart trembles, when your mind troubles, in condolences, and happy coincidences.

His presence is whimsical. His stories are told in a riddle.

His lung shrinks in size. For his heart grows bigger and wise.

His humor is dark. For his laugh makes the light shines bright.

He fiddles with stories. As the storytellers he raises.

He oaths to pedagogies. With anecdotes and analogies.

He is a nomad. He is on the page-turners and unwritten words on your notepad. Yet worry not. As he can always be found on the hill, where the wind whims as his will. Rest below the humblest tree with the most branches, where everything he loves, flocks and perches. Where the bird sings, and the bard hymns.

He is enlightened. For some known him as Ivan.

He is The Lore Keeper. The Kingdom’s wisdom whisperer.



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