In the twilight of his years, he stood,
A figure sculpted in the sands of time,
A shadow cast by the dying sun,
Caught in the turmoil of destiny's rhyme.
He reached that moment, inevitable, profound,
When the deep currents of the soul pull,
A whisper, a call, a shadowed sound,
Where the true compass of the heart is full.
In the labyrinth...
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