Forged by the sands of origin
Molded by the cradle, fruits of condition and tradition

To conform with the humbleness of history
Or detach the binds of destiny?

Brittle fingers points to archetypes
From judgement, blinded by prejudiced manichean veils

Suffocated by these chains, a fire can be set ablaze

To spread it and destroy these chains,
Or scorch them to burn yourself...

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