Outside, above, it felt so free.
As it was supposed to be.
That feeling, though, would barely last.
Our lot was set, our die was cast.
Somehow, we survived the fall.
And landed back behind this wall.
Back to this place, to our stead,
With haunting vistas in our heads.
Before too long, alas we found,
Things disowned last time around.
They all returned in different form,
As signals of forsaken norms.
Norms we hid but not destroyed.
Gods we shunned that left a void.
A void, like all, that would be filled,
With smaller and the stranger still.
Still in trauma, still awaking.
Dodging and devout forsaking.
Religion and economy,
Politic and dichotomy.
Fetters that had long been shattered,
Had returned and seemed to matter.
These things it seemed were more than states.
These were constant, human traits.
In our dreams we flew beyond.
Reality failed to correspond.
We never did fully fit,
With this world we tried to quit.
And maybe that, is the point.
What can we do with such disjoint?
Perhaps there’s work behind this wall.
Perhaps there’s reasons for that fall.
Perhaps we’re meant to wrestle with,
The contradictions of our myths.
We briefly held the hidden hand.
But didn’t fully understand.
There was a need to get a taste.
To set new eyes upon this place.
Perhaps our path is not above.
But right here in the heart thereof.
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