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Poem

In the realm where shadows stretch and fragile light flickers timidly,
a world where each step, each whisper rolls into the void,
modern beings are entangled in the web of ambition,
not to be, but to succeed in this relentless race.
We, the descendants of the tireless generation,
where the anthem is &quot;do more, but feel less,&quot;
are the architects of progress, masters of power,
yet builders of hollow monuments in our own hearts.
Driven by success, hidden under masks of triumph,
we march forward, but where is our soul in this ascent?
The whispers of our inner emptiness echo like sounds in a vast canyon,
begging to be confronted, embraced, understood.
In the silent corridors of our minds,
where fears of life itself settle like specters,
lie the seeds of fulfillment, waiting to be unearthed.
Is neurosis the fate of the modern soul,
a spirit trapped in the chains of a culture
devoted to the gods of power and progress?
I answer, yes, it is so,
when we allow our hearts to be eclipsed by shadows,
ignoring the melodies of true existence within ourselves.
For in the pursuit of outward victories,
we have neglected the art of being,
of feeling deeply, of truly living.
When the noise of ambition fades,
and we dare to listen to silence,
we might discover fragments of ourselves,
the forgotten verses of our own being.
In a dance of light and shadow,
between the realms of doing and feeling,
resides the magic of human essence,
a poem awaiting to be written,
a song whispered among the stars,
guiding us back to our hearts.
Let us, then, stop in our relentless chase,
to hear the murmur of our spirit,
to feel the breath of our soul,
and perhaps, in that sacred silence,
we will truly become,
embracing the melancholic beauty
of our infinite, gentle, and tender humanity.

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