Tightly locked away, My lying lyre lay Inert by night; by day, A sophist's song would play. Erudite yet error-prone, “If only I had known” Was my only lot, a loan – Even this I could not own. By whisper came a task: "Sift, seek, ask, And fill your fellow's flask From the everlasting cask." As knight or pawn, Quest I on!
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After much earthly toil
a seed meets the soil,
like when a tired soul
finds a resting place
after many years a´falling
from heavens grace