One day, or day one. You decide. Unknown
In clay-walled cage, a flickering candle's spark, A man's shadow writhes, a prisoner of the dark. He wears the chains of self, a rusted thrall. His spirit drowns in the echoes of the fall. Listen, a whisper from the ancient deep, A voice that stirs the slumbering seeds of sleep. "Arise," it calls, "O soul in mortal clay, Open the wings that time has held at bay."
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