There is a canopy over my heart. My roots are digging deeper to search for richer nutrients. The Council of Antiox gave me the lowliest of lands. I was the last among my peers to be given a plot and now even the short end of a carrot looks down on me. But it’s exactly where I need to be. My master has given me responsibility. He graces me with favorable climate and strategizes my vines to yield fruit in the most maximum way. He will watch over me. He will pluck the dead from me. He will come at his most optimum time to tell me I’m ready. I will not be fruit that is not under ripe or over ripe. My name is Concord. I’ll meet you at your dining table.


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