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Son of Dust: The Treasure Hunter
In winds that whisper, where secrets lie,
The Son of Dust roams with a seeking eye.
Not for gold or gems, but truths laid bare,
In the open air, shining everywhere.
He walks ancient paths, silent and still,
Where mysteries wait, life's veil to fill.
Beneath starlit skies, he searches for grace,
Tracing the hand that shapes time and place.
Through doubt and fear, he finds hope’s gleam,
Not in power or gold, but love's gentle stream.
Wandering bold, he uncovers the plan—
The hand of God, the heart of man.