Thee Who Tug through Fog

We tug, I tug.
Blockades are set in position,
and are melted by the bloodcurdling liquid,
as the barriers disappear,
aggravation increases with very sight of the rocks' crumble.
We tug, I tug.
My soul and my well being lie
in my falsifying hands,
for a purpose or no purpose at all.
The blockades are reconstructed through the guidance of our builders,
who can reshape from any phase.
And while our invaders can only build caves,
our counselors can reshape mountains
that brush against the moon and glitter in the sky,
and only souls who can climb,
may venture through the glistening hills in search of gold.

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