shifra mythos

*Created by a father who has no name,*
*With four swords needing energy to live,*
*And a heart that begs for children for love's blame,*
*Nine children the mother did give.*

*Bathed in scales of divine color,*
*The first was born from a bright spark,*
*He who believed he was lesser to no other,*
*A platinum son who wished to make his mark.*

*A blazing flame made of love,*
*Chaos and freedom became intertwined,*
*One who wished for all under the skies above,*
*A winged devout whose beliefs brightly shined.*

*From smoke there came a wind ever so cold,*
*Without lifeblood, it would die,*
*Given a gift from Earth, blood of gold,*
*As bitter thanks, a ruby tore out his eye.*

*Tempering the metals which lie below,*
*A dancer whose gift was to stop Pride,*
*This warrior wished for the ultimate foe,*
*And would not rest until that foe has died.*

*Arising from the soil which wind had struck,*
*Skin made of dirt, mind made of mud,*
*Giving life to the ground, wished it good luck,*
*All his hate was flat as a dud.*

*Wearing what he was left, solid rock,*
*Seeking to put an end to Fire's discord,*
*Patient as all time, gazing like a thousand clocks,*
*Wishing for nothing but control from his birth's hoard.*

*Quaking with fear when he first came,*
*Wanting nothing more than to be safe once more,*
*With bubbles and steel as his favorite game,*
*A diver with terror dripping out of his open pores.*

*Destined to be the last, none would come later,*
*Born with a bitter taste of that others hate,*
*Pushing others until their hearts splatter,*
*A scaled king with eyes of snake.*

*Though the eight had come, no more to deliver,*
*The mother cried, her crown demanding the dark,*
*She had to try, be once more a giver,*
*While she had wished otherwise, she listened to the jewel's bark.*

*Birthed after the last already were,*
*Made as separate, but born as whole,*
*Emotions too strong for any man to deter,*
*Formed of darkness, an endless hole.*