The lock clicks, the final wall falls.
"Congratulations," the empty echoes call.
You stand unbound, a ghost without a form,
A ship unbuilt to weather any storm.
No map is drawn, no legend to unfold,
No meaning given, just a story to be sold.
You are the chisel, and the rock, and the void,
A lonely god, by your own choice employed.
And this the catch, the freedom and the fear:
To be a nothing, now a self made clear.
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