Title: Optional

Text: There is a growing golden light; a flower unfolding behind the mirror of your eyes. If an angel could hold it in his polished white hand, I know he'd release it like a bird to the sky. Now you are the warrior who will conquer this land. On a horse made of clouds, you will scatter the sands. Some people say God is long dead, but I heard something inside you with my head to your chest. Each paragraph will be a test.

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