Maybe futile
In vain we try to find our ways in everlasting gloom, we search tunnels for a breath of fresh air, we search, room to room, through corridors for the briefest divine intervention where can we find light In this never-ending shade, though, all hope has dwindled to despair. The elders tell stories from before when living above was still possible, when shadows were a blessing to seek a midsummer…
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