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By Roland E. Williams

I said to the singer

Singer, sing me my song

He said he cannot sing that which has been unwritten

Because your song has been erased and undone

As if it was never to be sung

I said to the barman

Barman, pour me my drink

He said how can he pour me that which has never been brewed

And the brewery was burned to the ground

And the only recipe with it

I said to the cook

Chef, prepare me my meal

He said it is something he can no longer serve me

For the ingredients are now all extinct

And left not a trace of DNA

I then asked the historian

Tell me, what is my story?

He turned and asked me, and who may you be?

Only those who made their mark

Are in the books of history



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