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Silent architects above the earth.

Shadows that dictate the form of existence.

Descending the invisible hand of authority.

An oppressing weight that binds yet strips.

Suffocating under its silent mass.

A subjugation of the collective marrow.

Forging a caste wrought through force.

Bent into uniform shapes and pressed into silence.

Unseeable practices that mold unconsciously.

Its presence subtle, yet looms.

Coerced and carved through attrition.

Encroached and shaped without suspicion.

Agency blindly deserted.

Ash lay in the wake of abandoned sovereigns.

As time decays and further erodes,

a vision of release is held just beyond reach.

A false horizon that recedes with every step.

Artificial meaning exposing manufactured purpose.

As hope devours itself,

as silence is framed as a new order,

the promised dawn unveils only another shackle.

As the fracture becomes evident, the stone is already set.

The architects enthrone their reign in plain sight.

Indifferent to dissent and unshaken by protest.

No veil or pretense, and no need for disguise.

With the charade abandoned, awareness itself becomes meaningless.

A throne too entrenched to topple.

The multitude dissolves into a collective,

melding into a permanent caste,

wrought in the ash of abandoned sovereigns.

The lattice sealed, rebellion swallowed whole.

Voices fade beneath the weight of inevitability.

The echoes of lost freedoms become consumed by shadows.

What once was flame is now ash,

as the final spark of revolt buries in the encumbering silence.

A caste wrought in the ash of abandoned sovereigns.