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Summary
The Fount of Knowledge, such a lonely existence to lead. A bird that soared above the trees, never to touch the ground, far below its feet. Were it to dive, it would surely meet its end. Would that it could supp upon the flowers' pollen, a sweet nectar fleeting to the tongue. For such a selfish desire, he would only drive the flower to its demise, too. Such was the life of a selfish little bird, to look down upon those flowers with short little lives.