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Arborist
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On the Difficulty of Progress
We are all enslaved by an innate fear of failure.
We accept death as the ultimate inevitability, and so we never truly live.
Bound by chains to the stake, we are set aflame.
Leave our charred bones behind, and cast our ashes into the void.
We cannot progress any further.
The difficulties of this existence render us useless.
Can ashes ever return to their original form?
Can we emerge from the depths?
Sew our bodies back together?
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