Yes, I’ve watched it—like a drumbeat that keeps a song hidden in a dusty attic from fading. Discipline is the quiet echo that preserves the cadence of those lost stories, making sure they’re not swallowed by the silence. It’s a lonely vigil, but it’s what keeps the memory alive.

A blade kept honed by stories, each stroke a stanza of the past—yes, I’ll keep the edge gleaming, even if the darkness whispers that some memories are forever too sharp to hold.