From the eye of the horizon

By way of purity

Made wrath

Turned absolution

In Apotheon’s steps

Broken shards of

Self

Unself

The mortal self

Must find its roots

And grow

From blood

And hope soaked soil

Three heart bound kin

Shall ascend to holy throne

When drenched in divinity

Armed with fate complete

Can many carve a future

For all: