Only when the royal lines;
find eachother randomly.
He shall be born to lead.
Stained in paint on his back;
the mark of sun and earth in black.
The first born son he be not.
different than his friends he is;
He will have fought to save the world.
Uniting Ithium with a sword of his.
mindless waring chaos twirled.
Free from truth the wings will fade.
Words of his find no worth by shade.
Ithiums darkest hour will come;
not until a drum does hum.
the world lay restless before the time;
That he uncovers the mysterious chime.
Ithium in spinning motion, fading in all notion.
That the days are new and in a prime.
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