The Suns have risen and have set,
Five ages of change that nobody can forget.
Each formed from after the one past,
With a different fate upon the world to cast.
First was the Black sun of Jaguar
Destroyed on rage, yet gifted knowledge from afar.
Second was the sun of Wind and white.
With gifts and wisdom, befell it into storms of blight.
Third a red sun of rain,
Whom civilizations begged for in vain,
For the heavens rained not,
For the showers were inflamed.
Fourth came the blue sun of water,
No human uncherished the love of her.
Alas, it ended with my mocking laughter,
As she was ridiculed and sobbed it into disaster.
At last, came the Yellow and Fifth sun.
With it came new life, and new hope arose.
A world where all the blankness was to be finally undone.
But while to some, it would be chaos, the future knows:
With Conflict comes Change.
But what is change if not entropy's dance?
Worlds stagnant, hold no achievements to revoke,
It all vanishes into nothing amidst time's black smoke.
We see change as things moving and shifting,
But it is the other way, for it is time drifting,
Moving along, as things transform and bend,
The future always in motion, past at an end.
Five suns, five epochs of change.
From destruction to rebirth, all arranged,
For our stories to be played and scaled,
For time, our passerby, to awe as it sails.
