In the battle of markets, where influences clash relentlessly

In the battle of markets, where influences clash relentlessly, In every war, the lies of professionals resonate loudly, Where religious fanatics, sincere to the point of incandescence, Sell a holy crusade to defend virtue from the shadow of Evil. In the silent march of soldiers, where the soul's turmoil is deaf, A story is born of a world seeking salvation in smoke and fire, And the flames rise like sacrificial prayers to the heavens, Embracing promises of eternal redemption and deliverance. In the chaotic dance of markets, where goods become weapons, Legends are woven speaking of good and evil, light and darkness, And structures of illusions rise, vibrating sand castles, Under the weight of heavy words proclaiming absolute truth. Beyond the curtains of rhetoric, where lies and truth intertwine, Stretches a world where silence is the loudest scream, And souls are lost in the labyrinth of unanswered questions, Seeking a path to peace that always seems a step away. In the melancholy of this endless struggle for domination and control, In every story lies the shadow of a personal crusade, Where each heart sings its own anthem of hope and despair, Knotted in the fine weave of dreams and unshared fears. Thus, war becomes a dance of shadows on a vast theater's stage, A spectacle of lights and shadows, beliefs and doubts, Where each soul is an actor in its own play of existence, Carrying within the echo of a battle that knows no end.