04 - The Pup's Quest: A Journal of Id Recoding

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In a pink box, tranquility is found,

Yet on the cozy rooftop, threads abound.

A black jungle, a fearful sight,

Yet alluring scents dance through the night.

A timid pup, lost in confusion,

Finally dares to peek with a gentle fusion,

From the warm shelter, soft paws emerge,

Courageously venturing into the surge.

Courage needed for the quest at night,

As warm lights fade beyond the sight.

The pup halts, gazes at distant gleam,

Should it explore or retreat from the dream?

Insightful of dangers lurking around,

The pup decides to ponder on the ground.

Before dawn, the land lies cold and stark,

Chilling moisture envelops like a mark.

A lucky sprite, perhaps in pity's grace,

An orange glow appears beside the fur's embrace.

In the darkness, the flame's precious glow,

Illuminates wonders the pup didn't know.

Greedy, the pup yearns for more,

Desiring to possess the fire's core.

But before touching the warm desire,

White fur halts, as pink paws inquire.

Is it a ghost or a fairy's wile?

Is the touch warm or filled with trial?

The unknown and truth make the pup shy,

Yet the flame's presence lulls reason awry.

... ...

Perhaps a hard rock, dormant and wise,

Can awaken the intellect's reprise.

Turning the worst unknown to face,

So the truth and fear lose their menacing pace.