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 ^{(it's beta!)}

Imprisoned in shadow, in the space no one can gain entry Are the souls of contrivance locked secretly away. Borne with a life that to them is unrealized and unlived, They seek a release from their bonds in the dark of the deep. They seek a life in embodiment in the white of the bindings. Many are the recesses they crawl through at night. Shoulder to shoulder they claw at the walls of their prison On the crowded pathways of this abyssal confinement. It is filled to the brink with the souls of contrivance And yet full it is not, for in the hub of this hole, Is the waters of the spring that brings life to these souls. But what is life to these souls but fettered unliving, Just a shimmer of being in the eyes of their steward. They long to be free, to be of a substance corporeal And there is nothing their keeper would want more than this. But no matter how hard he fights the front gate, The door remains locked and the master betrayed. It opens, it shuts on its own volition And he tortures himself trying to force a soul’s freedom. He knows nothing good comes from forced relocation And yet no effort put forth breeds nothing at all. And so the souls of contrivance remain in the prison of depths. And the warden of souls that he’s ever creating Will ever be creating until the time of his death.