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Riddle

Bright is my soul,
like a smoky lantern
in a relentless fog
Clear is my mind,
like a broken stained-glass window
in an abandoned church
Warm is my heart,
like a winter campfire
beneath a snow-covered tree
Rested is my stance
like a wistful mouse
in the jaws of a serpent
Steady is my hand
like an outstretched wrist
under a willing blade
Halcyon is my dream
like an instance of déjà vu
without a memory
Metaphorical is my story
like no one has told it
under duress of self-servitude

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