We ride the storms of time itself,
but we are neither gods
nor mortals.
We don't know all
yet we do know what, for some,
is yet to come.
We bid you farewell
and greet you
with this, a chorus breath.
We hope to find you, waiting
in some distant archive,
still alive and strong,
long, long, after death.
We address you
'champion,' should you succeed,
'tragic hero' or 'villain,'
or however we see fit.
We will only see the you
that you chose to share--
do not begrudge our judgment
and remember that to fail
is for us to never even know of you,
what you create, or how you fare.
We challenge you to be remembered,
so brandish your quill,
your fountain pen,
your typewriter,
your computer,
or any other device
befitting of your ways.
We challenge you!
Create a static time machine,
an adventure to be relived
time after time after time
so that we, the readers,
may learn the wonders of your days!
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