They shut their eyes. They silenced their minds. They listened to the Rhythm. They could feel the strength of the wood that composed the towering gate. The rope bindings and the mighty cogs that turned with the wheel. They could feel the hours and days and weeks that went into this gate’s construction. They could feel the pulse and ache of the trees that were cut down from the forest to the north. The ageless sunlight once imprinted on their branches. They could feel the years, and the life, of this object, which to them in their mode of focus breathed just as deep as the humans that stood on
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