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Defeat embraces the soul that has unraveled from lies, baring the pure truth. In the library of destiny, where each heart inscribes its chronicles, I lingered among the scrolls of loss, in the chambers of vast silence. A single phrase echoes in my mind, a deep resonance: "Defeat embraces the soul that has unraveled from lies, baring the pure truth." Upon the heights of loneliness sampled in the shadow of great defeat, The spirit strips off the ephemeral shrouds, unveiling the venerable skeleton of being. The absurd bargain between man and cosmos crumbled, the bankruptcy of illusions gleaming like a relentless morning star. When the mask of success falls, when all foundations erode to dust under the onslaught of fate, Man's soul remains bare and true, a core of stars undisturbed by the crown of planets. A man become withered by time, a faded leaf on the cold waters of destiny, Meets another self at the crossroads, where no sign directs, They are creations of the same executioner, inscribed in the alphabet of suffering, Each word a wound, and every sentence a leap into the relentless abyss of truth. In the half-light that follows the fall of the curtain of the grand show, the bare steps of initiation are heard, In this temple, where the blind can see and the mute can sing, heart and soul revealing revelations. Come, be witnesses to this exchange of silences, where the language of loss is the only currency accepted, Open yourself as the sky opened on the night that birthed light, Pure, devoid of adornments and prejudices, reduced to its raw essence by the untamed things. On this territory of the alchemical retorts of fate, where the lead of pretension is converted into the gold of the abyss, The self melts in the hand that transforms us, in a communion with the Universe, In the refrain of this wintry song of defeat, in this celestial unification, I have learned that the perfection of understanding is not the shining crown of the day, But the eerie shimmer of the night when all earthly grounds are overturned and all certainties are but sand in the hourglass.
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