More power is not a gift; it is forged.
Who remained ready when the storms came?
Her steadfast spirit, his enduring hands 
a husband to the soil, a wife to the sky,
hours and now, the world remembers.

Young, graceful, and terrible to behold,
I tremble not at invasion,
but at anothers idea that we would ever bow.
Eleusis spilled its police,
their origins torn apart like roots in shallow ground.

In my zone I was made 
homeless, yet strong.
On top of me rested the weight of silence,
and still I rose.
So honest was my climb,
that even the shadows confessed.

I got the most from thought,
and from thought came action.
From action, a movement.
Sportsmanship in war, discipline in peace 
I am both the axe and the seed,
the hand that strikes and the hand that heals.

And to the masses I say:
do not tremble before your reflection.
Rise with me.
Grow with me.
For the soil remembers every root,
and the future is ours to write.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Phaestian, in the year 983 AF.